#Dee can't say the same

[aceof-stars]

One thing I love about Miles Edgeworth is how realistic and practical he is, more than he is moralistic. As much as Miles cares about justice and doing what he thinks is right, he’s not fueled by belief the same way, for example, Phoenix is. And this is one of the things I feel like gets ignored or brushed aside when Miles's character is softened too much.

Both pre and post redemption, Miles puts a lot of emphasis on reality and the bottom line of what people can do in a situation.

In Turnabout Goodbyes, the first thing Edgeworth says in response to Phoenix asking him why he became a prosecutor instead of a defense attorney is: "… I couldn't let myself deny reality like you."

He also doesn't truly believe that every defendant he prosecutes is guilty, contrary to popular belief. In Turnabout Sisters, he says this: ""Innocent"…? How can we know that? The guilty will always lie, to avoid being found out. There's no way to tell who is guilty and who is innocent! All that I can hope to do is get every defendant declared "guilty"! So I make that my policy." Miles is disillusioned with finding the truth and trusting people that he settles for doing all he can hope to do.

And when you think about it, his motivation of finding the truth is an extension of his realism. After all, the truth is quite literally the most objective, realistic thing ever. In 1-3, after helping Phoenix convict Dee Vasquez, he says: "Will Powers was innocent. That he should be found so is only natural… not a miracle." The truth as a motivation is probably a grounding force for him.

When Miles comes back in Farewell My Turnabout, he calls out Phoenix's flawed motivations for becoming a defense attorney by offering realism: "We aren't some sort of heroes. We're only human, you and I. You want to "save someone"? That's something easier said than done, wouldn't you say? You are a defense lawyer. You can't run away from that. You can only fight. That's all you can do." Miles isn't saying Phoenix can't "save someone". Miles is saying that Phoenix shouldn't be so focused on saving someone that he forgets that his job as a defense attorney is only to fight for them.

Side note, I love the way Miles comforts people, he isn't exactly "nice" but he's incredibly kind. His blunt honesty digs at the heart of the matter, and he gives them an extra push because he respects them enough.

And then there's, possibly, my favorite Miles Edgeworth line: "It doesn't matter how many underhanded tricks a person uses… The truth will always find a way to make itself known. The only thing we can do is to fight with the knowledge we hold and everything we have. Erasing the paradoxes one by one… It's never easy… We claw and scratch for every inch. But we will always eventually reach that one single truth. This I promise you." This directly parallels the line he says in 1-2, and it makes me emotional every time I think about it.

The fact that Miles Edgeworth never lost his unwavering realism, in both quotes he acknowledges how untrustworthy people can be, but gained a new purpose.

[dandylovesturtles]

I'm trying to get myself back into writing by doing some little things here and there. This is the first one that is actually worth it to post here lol

Awhile back I asked on discord for suggestions of things I could write and then for a long time I didn't actually do anything lol BUT I finally did something. This ficlet is based on a suggestion @abbeyofcyn gave me about Donnie feeling anxiety over a having a new home post S2 (at least I remember it being Cyn but the message is so old now I can't find it orz I'm sorry if it was someone else)

I hope you enjoy it!

---

The subway station has been closed to the public since the nineties. Most of the ways in are already blocked off, and it will be trivial to finish that work to keep out any intruders. The tracks and maintenance station make an ideal garage and workspace for the tank. The old electrical wiring and water pipes are easily accessible. There’s still functioning toilets in the old bathrooms, and ventilated spaces ideal for cooking. There’s easy access to the street, the rest of the subway system, and the sewers. Splinter hums approvingly as he circles an old staff area with a tape measure. His brothers shout as they call dibs on rusted out train cars. April enthusiastically notes that the station is close to her new campus.

It checks all the boxes on their list, and then some.

So why has the sick feeling in the pit of Donnie’s stomach gotten worse instead of better?

There must be something wrong with it. Some flaw they aren’t seeing, some con they haven’t considered. He needs to go over his lists again; double check and triple check from every angle. They’ve only been here an hour - it would just be irresponsible to make a decision so quickly!

He desperately fires up his tablet again and pulls up his list, scrolling with hard taps as his eyes fly over the compiled criteria. There must be something… Something!

It’s structurally sound. There’s ample space for skateboard ramps and arcade machines. There’s plenty of lighting that will only need simple maintenance to be functional. There’s a big space that can be used for a new lab. It checks all the boxes, but there must be at least one it’s not checking, or why would Donnie’s blood curdle at the thought of actually living here?

The way the air moves through the space is wrong. The way the sounds echo off the walls and floors is unfamiliar. The smell is not the one he spent his whole life inhaling. It’s all wrong in a way that embeds itself in Donnie’s very skin, leaves him feeling slimy and nauseous and off kilter, like everything was just tilted at a dutch angle.

He scrolls to the bottom of the list and taps a few more times to be sure. “Air feels right” and “Echoes are normal” and “Smell is bad” are not boxes to be checked, so it can’t be any of those things. It has to be something else… It has to be something!

He scrolls back to the top of his list. Then he scrolls back to the bottom. He can’t find it. But it has to be there.

“Whoa,” says Leo, and Donnie jolts, his head snapping up. “I’ve never seen Donnie look like he wants to murder a computer before.”

“Please don’t tell Raph that something’s wrong with the structural checks or whatever,” says Raph, just behind Leo. They’re all coming up to him, probably wondering why he’s been standing in the same spot for… 

Donnie glances at his screen and jolts again. Twenty four minutes and thirty seven second!?

“Come on, Dee, this place has got to be perfect,” says Leo. “I already know exactly where I’m putting my action figures in my new digs!”

“And I’m already getting sooo many ideas for graffiti!” says Mikey excitedly, bouncing in place where he stands next to April. “And I can’t wait to design the kitchen layout! I can’t believe I get to start from scratch and do it just how I want!”

“Raph already knows exactly where the dojo is goin’,” Raph joins in. When Leo blows a raspberry, Raph pushes him forward and smirks when he has to catch himself.

“I think this is the best you guys are gonna get,” says April. “Unless you wanna move to the Hidden City.”

“We can’t, Raph still has a warrant for his arrest.”

“I keep tellin’ you guys, that ain’t Raph!”

“I only wish I had known about this place earlier,” comes Splinter’s voice as he joins them. “So much square footage!”

They all start talking excitedly, so fast it blends into a whir in Donnie’s ears. They’ve all already decided, but don’t they see? They can’t live here, because it’s wrong!

“No.”

Donnie’s declaration kills the conversation in its tracks. Everyone stops to look at him, and the sudden attention doesn’t feel as good as it might otherwise.

“No,” he repeats, shaking his head and looking back at his list. “This won’t work.”

A chorus of “What!?” comes from everyone else. Donnie keeps his eyes on his list, scrolling frantically, looking for the problem that he knows is there.

“Is there something wrong with it?” asks April, tone measured.

“Yes,” he says, but doesn’t elaborate, because he doesn’t know what it is yet and how can he answer if he doesn’t have any data?

It’s clear they aren’t going to wait for him to come up with the answer.

“Well what is it? Ventilation? Structural integrity? The wiring? Come on, Dee, give us somethin’.”

“It’s… it’s just wrong. I know it is.” Donnie looks up from his list then, and their skeptical expressions make him coil around his tablet in defense. “We’ve barely seen all of it! How can we know for certain that it will really suit our needs?”

He’s protesting too much, and it’s no surprise when Leo catches on, immediately narrowing his eyes as he hones in on Donnie’s uncertainty. 

“You’ve said no to every place we’ve looked at, dude! Are your standards that high, or do you just like living in Barry’s crappy apartment that much?”

“I obviously do not,” Donnie snaps, because he has made no secret of the fact that he hates it there. Sure, it was nice of Draxum to take them in now that they’re homeless and all that, but the apartment is too small, and the sheets are too scratchy, and the way the air conditioner sounds is all wrong, and the street noises bother Donnie at night…

Of course he doesn’t want to keep living there! He never wanted to live there in the first place!

“Then what’s the problem?” Leo asks, folding his arms, and Donnie scowls back.

“I just think we shouldn’t rush into such a big decision just because it sucks to live in Draxum’s apartment,” he reasons, reasonably because he’s being very reasonable!

“And what, wait for our realtor to find us a few more listings?” Leo says with heavy snark. 

“Leo,” says Raph with a warning tone, before looking back at Donnie. “Look, we can take tonight to think about it,” he suggests. “But if there’s nothing really wrong with it, I think this is gonna be the best we can do.”

Donnie shrinks back. “You say we’ll take tonight to think about it, but you’ve all already decided.” He shakes his head. “But I’m telling you, we can’t live here. It’s wrong.”

“Donnie…” Mikey’s hand touches Donnie’s elbow, and it takes everything in him not to jerk it away. “Is there an actual problem with the place, or is this a feelings problem?”

Donnie jerks away.

Then he turns and sprints away down the nearest subway tunnel.

…

He only makes it to the next condemned platform before he collapses against the wall, panting. Maybe he really should take up Raph’s advice to do more cardio… If he can ever face any of them again, that is.

He sinks to the ground and rests his chin on his knees, looking around at the unfamiliar scenery. He knew the old tunnels of his home like he knew the curves and grooves in his favorite wrench. But his favorite wrench is lost forever under an insurmountable amount of rubble, and the tunnels around him are foreign and imposing.

He doesn’t want to live in Draxum’s apartment anymore.

But he doesn’t want to live here.

He wants to go home.

The ugly, bitter feeling in his stomach twists again, and he groans and presses his face into his knees, covering his head with his arms. He knows exactly what would fix this, and it’s something he can’t have.

He did the tests himself, over and over again. He knows that their old home would take years, decades to make livable again. They simply can’t fix it. It’s too big to be fixed.

Which means he cannot be fixed.

The understanding that he’ll feel this way forever washes over Donnie, leaving him desolated. How is he ever supposed to function again?

How can the rest of his family move on so easily when he’s still like this?

Footsteps echo off the walls, and he tenses up, curling tighter into himself. It’s no surprise that one of them came after him. He’s just glad it’s only one set of footsteps, and not five.

He doesn’t look up as they draw close. He doesn’t have to. A barefooted tread, light and airy with a bit of a hop to it even when the mood is somber. He’d know it anywhere.

Mikey plops down next to him and says, “Ready to talk to Doctor Feelings?”

Donnie shakes his head without looking up.

Mikey hums. “Wanna talk to Doctor Delicate Touch?”

Donnie shakes his head harder.

There’s a shuffle, and then warmth against Donnie’s side. “Wanna talk to your favorite little brother in the whole wide world?”

Donnie finally lifts his head enough to look at Mikey with one eye. “Winning by default isn’t something to brag about,” he notes.

A huge grin crosses Mikey’s face. “Hey, there you are!”

“Here I am,” Donnie notes dryly, and it sounds miserable even to his own ears.

Mikey’s expression falls into something more soft. He scoots around to Donnie’s front, then says, “You’re homesick.”

Homesick feels too small for the dark feelings that are swallowing Donnie whole. It’s just not enough.

“...I don’t want to live somewhere new,” he says, and it sounds like, I don’t want everything to be different.

“Yeah, it’s a lot,” says Mikey, even though Donnie knows he can’t be feeling it like this, or at least hopes his little brother isn’t. “You’ll get used to it, though!”

It almost makes Donnie laugh. He can’t begin to imagine it ever feeling anything but terrible. “How do you know?”

“Because I have experience,” says Mikey breezily, like it’s obvious. 

Donnie hopes the skepticism shows on his face. “Really? Micheal, we were both too young when Papa moved us to the lair.”

“Yeah, I don’t remember that. But I do remember when we all got our own rooms!”

Donnie considers that with some surprise. He vaguely remembers that… mostly because he was happy that Raph and Leo couldn’t put their stuff on his side anymore. “Ah yes. A joyous day for all of us.”

“Well it wasn’t too happy for me!” Mikey retorts, folding his arms. “I didn’t want any of us to get our own rooms. I… wasn’t ready to be without you guys.”

Actually, now that Mikey says that, Donnie does remember that part of it. “I also remember that you weren’t without us, because you slept in one of our rooms every night for two months.”

Mikey nods seriously. “Yeah! Because I wasn’t ready for change!”

“And we had to make a rotating chart so that each of us could get a full night of sleep once in a while.”

“Huh?” Mikey pouts. “What do you mean? I sleep like an angel!”

“Kicking and chewing on anything in grabbing distance seems more like demon behavior,” Donnie notes, and Mikey huffs and makes a big show of being offended. 

“The point, Donald,” he stresses, “is that it was a big change! And I wasn’t happy about it for a loooong time.” He leans back. “I didn’t get why you guys were so happy about moving out when I wasn’t. It felt like you were all leaving me behind.”

Donnie frowns. “But we were literally a few feet away,” he notes. “As you proved nightly.”

Mikey points at him excitedly. “Exactly! It was a big change, but I still had you guys. And eventually, you guys helped me get excited about it, too.”

Donnie tries to remember what exactly they did to accomplish that, but… “All I remember is that we helped you hang up your finger paintings and put glow in the dark stickers on the ceiling.”

“Yep!” Mikey nods sagely. “You helped make it my own. I got where I was excited to be in my room, because it was how I wanted it to be!” He falters, tapping his chin. “And also I remember Leo said something about all my toys being sad if they were alone in my room at night…”

“Ah. Manipulative tactics,” Donnie observes.

“But that’s not the point! The point is that when I made it my own, change wasn’t so scary anymore.” He waves back down the tunnel. “And that’s what’s going to work for you, too! Because you’re going to build yourself a big new lab and decorate your room just how you want it, and you’re going to love it!”

Donnie feels absolutely no confidence in that. The idea of building a new lab, of decorating his room, of getting used to the new space, doesn’t fill him with excitement. There is only dread there, and exhaustion, and an insurmountable realization that nothing is ever going to be the same as it was before.

“That might work for you,” he says softly, tiredly. “But I don’t think it will for me. I don’t think I will ever stop feeling…” 

He still doesn’t know what to call this. 

“...Homesick.”

“But you will,” says Mikey, putting a hand on his arm. This time, Donnie doesn’t jerk away. “You know how I know?”

“How?”

“Because you went through it with the rooms too, Dee.”

Donnie scoffs, shaking his head. “I was glad to have my own room,” he asserts. “The rest of you kept getting your things into my space. It was annoying.”

“Sure, maybe you were happy about that part,” says Mikey simply, “but do you remember the big storm? The first one after we moved into our rooms, that was sooo loud we could hear it?”

Again, Donnie thinks he vaguely recalls something like that. It clearly didn’t leave as large an impression on him as it did on Mikey, though.

“I… might,” he says.

“I remember,” says Mikey, “that I was so scared, I ran straight to Raph’s room! And he was already awake, and he was under the covers, and we made a tent together.” He giggles. “And then you came in, and then Leo! And I realized then, maybe you guys weren’t really as happy about sleeping in separate rooms as I thought.”

He shifts around again, pressing himself into Donnie’s side.

“We went through that all together. And we’re gonna go through this together, too. And that’s how I know it’ll be okay!”

Donnie can’t help but make a skeptical noise. He’s not sure it will be. It just feels like too much.

“We’re all homesick, too,” Mikey confides. “We show it different than you… But we are. We’re going through it with you.”

Donnie knows they miss home, too. He knows that. But still…

“What if you’re wrong,” he says, “and it’s not okay?”

“Then…” Mikey trails off, thinking. “Then I’ll use the money I saved up to buy you that limited edition Atomic Lass figure you wanted!”

Donnie twists his head to stare at him. “That figure currently values at eight hundred and fifty dollars,” he says.

Mikey grimaces. “I will give you all the money I have saved up to help you buy it!” he amends.

Donnie snorts. Then he laughs. Then he leans into the warmth of his little brother.

He doesn’t want to live somewhere new… but it won’t be entirely new. His family will still be there. Just a few steps away.

“Does the laughing mean you’ll come back with me?” asks Mikey. “Because this tunnel is cold.”

Donnie snorts again. “I will go back with you,” he agrees, “because I actually don’t have a choice in the matter.”

“Yes! I did it!” Mikey hops to his feet, extending a hand. “Another W for Doctor Feelings!”

“Winning by default is nothing to brag about,” says Donnie again. But he takes Mikey’s hand, and they go back to the station together.

[dennisboobs]

tags via @sewerkingcharlie

S14E10. Waiting For Big Mo

Requested by anon

[ice-creamforbreakfast]

::Download:: (Patreon - Free from 29/11/2023)

A collection of warmer clothes for your sims so that they can stay chic while staying indoors 💜

Details:

Ada Sweater Combo - A knitted sweater combined with a cinch belt and full tartan/plaid skirt. Rita Skirt Suit - A wool cropped coat and pencil dress combo with contrast collar and buttons that's perfect for looking smart, but staying warm.

Mavis Dress - A button-down dress in various shades and patterns

Mavis Dress V2 - Same old Mavis, brand new picnic blanket pattern (as someone calls it...they know who)!

Dee Sweater - Knitted roll-neck sweater that's perfect for those colder days

Catherine Pants - Who says you can't wear cropped pants in the winter? probably a few people, but do it anyway.

Scooter Sweater - Knitted rugby-style sweatshirt/sweater. Perfect for staying warm, but staying stylish.

Bertram Sweater - Asymmetric, knitted sweater with Arran buttons.

Barb Hair V.4 - Another one? Yes. But There are five Barb hairs! One isn't called Barb though. Yes it's confusing. Shooby made me do it.

[awarmbowlofhomemadesoup]

I know I said in my post that the miners used to have a long-running bet about whether Orion Pax and D-16 would go through Conjunx Endura or Amica Endura ritual. And it's too funny to not elaborate.

The bet happens among miners on the same floor as Orion and Dee in the miner dormitory. The two are easy to recognize because:

Dee is known to be one of the best miners,

Orion is known to get into trouble first thing in the morning (as shown by the annoyed "Again" by one of the background characters when he landed on the train), and

they're always seen together.

Now, on to the bet. It started as a joke. But the more miners joined in, the bigger it got:

Some think Dee could do better for a mate and bet on Amica Endura (a bot can dream).

Others believe there's a reason Dee still hangs out with Orion even when Orion doesn't care about getting into trouble and bets on Conjunx Endura.

Jazz bets 3 to 1 that whichever ritual, it's Dee who would initiate first because he has a "more steady rhythm" than Orion's beat.

Elita-1, even if she's not in the same dormitory floor, knows about the bet because they're on the same team. She retorted it would be a million years before something ever happens between those two gobots.

Prowl thinks they'd eventually separate due to differences but doesn't bet. Sadly, this happened, which would've ended the bet.

But when the war with the Decepticons came, the bet was forgotten. They know Dee. They can't joke about it anymore, knowing he became their strongest enemy now.

But, oh, after MILLIONS of years, the Autobots and Decepticons are coming home to Cybertron for a common cause. The peace agreement was tentative at best. But slowly, they began adapting a pattern of norm.

Then, the autobot who had kept the record of bets stumbled upon their old belongings.

It only took one mention to the other Autobots before the stupid bet came back with full force on their now co-leaders.

B-127, now Bumblebee, finds out about the bet and says he bets they would be happy either way. (It's a wonder he hadn't accidentally blabbed it to Optimus yet)

Ratchet finds out about the bet. With a disapproving air, he declares, "I bet Optimus Prime would do the wise thing and go through Amica Endura first—is what I would say but knowing him..." he slaps a couple of shanix on the table, "20 to 1 odds he'd proposed first to that buckethead."

Optimus Prime felt a difference in their political meetings where they have to negotiate with Megatron and the Decepticons but he appreciates the newfound interest.

The Decepticons caught on to the bet.

Starscream surprisingly refuses to participate, but jeers that he bets Optimus would die from some self-sacrificial shit and Megatron would die from loneliness 3 years later. Skywarp comments, "Smart, I'll triple that!" So now there's a deadpool on the side.

The lull of the end of the Decepticon meetings are subtly taken as opportunity by some Seekers to know what's Megatron's thoughts on commitment.

Megatron is suspicious that they're up to something, but as long as they keep their nose cones clean, there wouldn't be any repurcussions.

(I'm sorry I'm not as familiar with other Autobots and Decepticons. Feel free to say what you'd think said characters would bet on👍)

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

You Painted Me Golden

Dieter Bravo x Female Reader

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: “So, uh—you can tell me no, but would—do you think I can come see you for Christmas?” Your heart races, you grip the phone tighter while you wait for his answer. Warnings: pov switching, pining, fluff, comfort, smut, masturbation, getting caught masturbating by an ill-timed FaceTime, unprotected p in v sex, oral (f receiving), cream pie, aftercare, marijuana, alcohol, naming the concierge after That Thing You Do! Words: 9,250 (I know, it's a lot.)

A/N: This is a VERY long chapter, but a LOT happens and I love these two so much. Thank you to mine and @devineconjuring's 4,000 messages back and forth about them and all of her brainstorming help, there's a beautiful moment between the two of them that she thought of and I can't thank her enough. Also thank you to @schnarfer and @mothandpidgeon for helping their dear, kinda dumb Mallard with some thoughts and wording (DRUG COPS).

Previous Chapter Golden Girl Masterlist Masterlist

*** He tries to stifle a yawn. Call time isn’t until 9, but you’ve been staying up too late to talk to him the past few nights.

You sigh contentedly, his heart thrums faster as you look up at the stars allowing him to look at your beautiful face a little longer.

“God the stars are bright tonight,” you admire.

He glances up, settling his eyes on a twinkling star, he wonders if it’s the same one you’re seeing. He thinks to himself maybe if he stares hard enough, he’ll see the same exact sky you’re seeing.

“He’d never do this with me…” you sigh. “He found looking at the stars boring.”

His heart drops, Warren’s still poisoning your thoughts.

“How could the sky be boring? These stars are millions of years old… they never truly die… they scatter their elements into space creating new stars, planets and life—" he catches himself. “They never end… they recreate themselves and mold themselves into a new existence.”

You smile, your bright eyes looking at him, making his heart shatter like an exploding star.

“Exactly,” you say softly, a glimmer of hope threads through your voice.

His breath catches in his throat yet again swallowing down the words that need to be said.

“Dee?” you say barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“I miss you.”

The edge of his mouth lifts in a shy smile. “I miss you too…”

His heart swells with an ache he never felt until he met you. He wants to reach through the screen and pull you close, to feel your warmth against him. But instead, he takes a deep breath and whispers, “I should probably get going, I gotta get ready, we’re filming in Bath, and it’s a three hour trip.”

“I’ve always wanted to go there,” you reply. The hint of disappointment in your voice makes his heart sink a little lower.

“Today, I'll mostly be sitting in a tent, waiting for my cue to recite a few lines of dialogue. There won't be much excitement happening, so you're not missing out on anything special. But one day, we’ll go and have fun together, Sweets.”

You smile and let out a small chuckle. “I’d love that.”

“Me too,” he softly says.

“Have a good day Dee.” “Have a good night Sweets.”

—-

You close your laptop and let out a heavy sigh, trying to ignore the empty feeling in your heart. The olive tree, adorned with twinkling lights that you carefully strung when you first moved in, glows and glistens in the cool night breeze. You love your backyard, full of the plants and flowers you nourish with your love and care. Warren used to care about the flowers that would bloom, he used to admire the vases full of them you’d place around your house. But then, he stopped. You thought it was you.

Another lonely night in your empty house after yet another long goodbye said to Dieter.

You pause in the kitchen, fingers tracing the smooth marble of your countertop. You begged Warren to let you have dark green cabinets, and he obliged. That was back when it felt like he wanted to make you happy. You chug the rest of your glass of wine, swallowing the sweet liquid down as you gaze at your damn green cabinets. They once represented compromise and shared dreams with Warren. Now they feel like a relic of something lost.

You remember when you first showed Warren this place, your mind alive with ideas on how to renovate and make the home your own. He was a hesitant at first, but your enthusiasm eventually convinced him. You were so excited as you walked through each room, planning out how you would decorate.

You spent days wearing overalls covered in paint learning how to use power tools and refinish hardwood floors. Warren indulged you at first, helping you choose paint colors and hang shelves, but as the years went by, his interest waned in both you and the house you shared. Just as the ghosts of your past life begin to haunt you, you think of Dieter and the way he’d always show his interest in everything you would do around the house. He would admire the new pieces of art you found or surprise you with a new vase he found while he was filming.

You set your empty wine glass in the sink with a soft clink and wander into the living room with Dieter’s words echoing in your mind.

"They never end... they recreate themselves and mold themselves into a new existence." You wonder if that's what you're doing now - scattering the elements of your old life with Warren to create something new.

A soft ping from your phone breaks the all-too-familiar silence. It’s Dieter.

Still thinking about those stars Sweet dreams

His day is only just beginning as your day is ending. Your mind goes through the familiar math of what time he’ll be able to talk again. 9 PM his time, 1 PM yours—along as filming doesn’t go over. It’s been three months.

Three months of distance and longing, of lawyer meetings and splitting of assets, ninety days of only wanting Dieter back next to you.

Three days after he left for London, Dieter tells you his assistant Court has found the best divorce lawyer, and he’s taking care of the bill.

Two weeks after he left for London, Dieter sends you a care package full of your favorite British snacks and a giant plush corgi that now sleeps next to you. You name it Stew, after Jimmy Stewart.

Three weeks after he left for London, you smoke a joint and watch DRUG COPS, the show that made Dieter a household name. You specifically choose the episode where his character brings home the cute girl from the bar and rails her against the wall. It’s been over a month since the last time you touched yourself and even longer since you had sex with Warren. By the time the episode’s credits roll, right after Dieter’s sex scene, your underwear is soaked with your arousal. The night can’t end like this, you need to see his possessive snarl again, so, you pick up the remote and rewind back to the scene. Your hand moves under your pajama pants and feels the wetness between your legs. Desire pools low in your belly when you touch yourself, watching as Dieter kisses down the woman’s neck, his large hands roaming her body. You imagine it’s you.

A soft moan escapes your lips when you stroke yourself, your fingers gliding easily through your slick. Onscreen, Dieter lifts the woman and presses her against the wall and kisses her, grinding his hips into hers. Years ago, you watched this episode with Warren, a cloud of shame existing over you at how turned on you were while watching your husband’s friend. It was almost as if he could sense it, his eyes occasionally flickering over to you while you pretended to be engrossed in your phone, only daring to look at the screen when Warren’s blue eyes weren’t on you. Now, nobody is watching you, you’re free to do whatever you want now… even if that’s rubbing tight circles around your clit while staring at the screen. Your fingers move faster, pressing down harder, chasing the building feeling in your core as you watch Dieter thrust into the actress on screen, his muscular back flexing with each snap of his hips. You imagine what the weight of his body pressing into you would feel like, the scent of him filling your nostrils as he nuzzles into your neck, the sound of his voice whispering filthy things in your ear with his deep voice.

A familiar pressure you haven’t felt in a long time starts to build low in your abdomen as you throw your head back against the couch cushions, your eyes fluttering closed. You can almost feel Dieter’s fingers stroking you.

“Fuck, Dee,” you whimper, your hips lifting off the couch. You’re home alone, you can scream… so you do. “Fuck! Dee!” you shout as your orgasm builds.

And just as you’re about to cum for him—your phone rings.

Dieter Bravo Facetime Video

Fuck.

You grab the remote, pausing the episode as your hand pulls out of your underwear and pick up the phone. You look—well—you look like you were just a couple strokes away from an orgasm.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart as you plaster a calm look across your face. With a slightly trembling finger, you accept the FaceTime call. Dieter's handsome face fills the screen, his brow instantly furrowing with concern at his first look.

"Morning Sweets, you alright? You look a little—overwhelmed," he says.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," you stammer, hoping he can't see the sheen of sweat on your skin or your pupils blown wide with arousal. "Just got done with a workout."

His eyes narrow slightly as he studies your face. "A workout, huh?" There's a hint of teasing in his tone. “At 11 PM?”

You laugh nervously, shifting on the couch. The movement causes your robe to slip open wider, revealing more of your heated skin. Dieter's gaze zeroes in on the exposed flesh.

Something shifts in his expression, his eyes darkening as realization dawns. “So—you workout in your robe?” he asks, his eyebrows rising, his voice is low and rough, sending a fresh wave of desire coursing through you.

“What? No, I—” you start to protest, but the words die in your throat as he leans closer to the camera.

"I think," he says slowly, his voice dropping an octave, "that you were doing a different kind of workout." His eyes bore into yours through the screen, intense and knowing.

You nod, your stare intense.

“Well, uh—with that. I’ll let you go. Call me back when you’re done. I don’t have to leave for set until 9—I’m going to go get my shower and also—work out,” he says with a wink.

A month after he left for London, Dieter has his team deliver four giant skeletons to decorate your yard with after you mentioned you always wanted one but Warren hated them.

On Halloween you hand out candy alone, just like the few years before, but this year the solitude echoes louder each time you close the door.

Six weeks after he left for London, Dieter gulps and gently asks you if you could put a robe on while you’re FaceTiming with him… he’s too distracted by the thin white fabric of your sleep shirt and the glimpses it gives him of the curve of your breasts. You oblige, but fall asleep that night thinking about the way his eyes refused to look away.

On Thanksgiving, you decline invitations from a few of your friends, opting to spend it with your parents up north, where they tiptoe around you and act extra gentle, like the first time you got your heart broken in high school. 

Ten weeks after he left for London, you climb the ladder to your attic, haul out the giant box, and put up your 12’ tall Christmas tree. You set it up and decorate it all by yourself—with a little help from a bottle of wine.

You look at your Christmas tree now, sitting in the corner of your living room, now complete with the pretty ornaments Dieter sent you from your favorite store in London. You can’t imagine spending the holiday with anybody else but him. It’s been three months. You don’t know how much longer you can take it.

You’ve just hung up with him, but now you feel quite brave. Loneliness will sometimes do that to you. So, you pick up your phone and FaceTime Dieter again.

“Hey, long time no talk,” he says with a wink.

“So, uh—you can tell me no, but would—do you think I can come see you for Christmas?”

Your heart races, you grip the phone tighter while you wait for his answer.

His face lights up, a slow grin lifting his lips. “I would never tell you no. In fact, hold on.” He moves through his hotel room, before sitting down at his desk. “Take a look.”

He opens his laptop, and the screen illuminates, displaying a list of flights from Los Angeles to London a week before Christmas.

Tears well in your eyes at the realization that he wants to be with you just as much as you want to be with him.

“I was going to ask you…” he smiles, “I just didn’t know if you would want—”

“I do,” you interrupt your heart fluttering. “I really do.”

“Amazing,” he smiles. “Let’s book it and begin the countdown.”

—-

He won’t be here to welcome you. He knows his schedule is solid, there hasn’t been a day he’s gotten home from set early in years. It kills him, but he knows you understand… you always do.

He orders a giant bouquet of red geraniums and places it on the table in the foyer, it’ll be the first thing you see when you arrive.

He wants everything to be perfect. He can’t bear the thought of you arriving and this hotel suite feeling anything less than a sanctuary for you.

Soon, the two of you will be breathing the same air and close enough to touch. He can hardly believe that you’re traveling almost half way across the globe to stay with him. He fluffs the pillows on the couch, trying to buzz off the nervous energy before his car arrives.

You’re high above the ground right now, flying in first class, something you insisted you didn’t need when he surprised you with the ticket. He would never settle for anything less than the best for you.

He wonders if you’re listening to one of the playlists he made you, if you’re reading a book that makes your nose scrunch up in thought, or if you’re abuzz with nervous energy like he is right now.

He imagines your smile when you first see the geraniums, he can almost hear your laughter ringing across the walls when you see the WELCOME HOME card he’s left propped up against the vase.

He prays he remembers his lines and marks while on set today. The less he screws up, the sooner he’s done with the scenes, and the sooner he’s here, finally back with his golden girl.

—-

You’re seated in the plush backseat of a sleek black car, gliding through the busy streets of London after an eleven hour flight. The city you love passes by in a blur, but you barely notice, your heart is racing as the car gets closer to the hotel. After months of longing and late-night and early morning calls, you’ll finally be with Dieter soon.

As you step out of the car at The Mandarin Hotel in Hyde Park and look up at the tall, brick historic building, the realization hits you that finally, you’re going to walk through the same door as Dieter, and soon, you’ll see his bright eyes in person, no longer miles away on a screen.

You feel like a movie star as the attendants swarm you and grab your bags. Dieter’s concierge, Lamar, greets you with a warm handshake and leads you inside, leading you through the lobby full of gold and jewel tones glimmering in warm chandelier light. You’ve stayed at some beautiful hotels before but this is the most gorgeous place you’ve been.

The elevator ride is quick, and when the doors open, you’re greeted by Dieter’s door.

As you approach the suite, your heart races with excitement. Lamar unlocks the door, stepping aside and gestures for you to enter first.

The first thing that catches your eye is the bouquet of geraniums on the foyer table. You let out a small chuckle at the sight of Dieter’s messy handwriting on the WELCOME HOME card propped up next to the vase. Lamar leads you to the spacious living area full of rich colors and plush furniture. It’ll make the perfect home for the next ten days.

“And where would you like your bags miss?” Lamar asks as you peer out the large french doors that lead to a terrace with a view of Hyde Park.

How do you tell Lamar that you don’t know? That you’re not sure if Dieter wants you with him in his room, or in the guest room?

“Oh, just leave them in the guest room,” you answer, playing it safe. “I’ll take care of them from there. Thank you.”

A bellhop wheels in a golden cart stacked with your bags as Lamar shows you the large kitchen and dining room.

“If you should need any groceries or anything else, please contact the concierge desk, we’re more than happy to help.”

You spot a crystal bowl filled with Kit Kats and can't help but smile as you grab one before leading Lamar out and thanking him and his team for all their help.

As the door clicks shut behind you, the exhaustion from your long flight hits you, along with the excitement of finally seeing Dieter.

You walk over to the table, sticking your nose into the bouquet of flowers and inhaling their sweet scent before picking up Dieter’s card and reading it.

Sweets, "Aren't the geraniums pretty, Professor?" Can’t believe you’re finally here. Make yourself at home and have a cuppa tea. (Look! I’m British!) I’ll be back soon, D

You still have a few hours until you’re expecting Dieter back. The large bathtub in the guest bathroom calls your name.

You slip into the guest bathroom and turn on the faucet, watching the water flow into the deep tub. From your toiletry bag, you grab your favorite bath oil and unscrew the lid, pouring it into the water.

Your clothes drop to the floor, creating a pile on the shiny marble tiles. The warm water instantly soothes your tense muscles as you sink into the tub. Leaning back against the smooth porcelain, you let out a sigh of relaxation and close your eyes.

As your cocooned in the warmth and solitude of your bath, you wonder what Dieter’s doing now. You can only imagine how frustrated he is to not be here with you. You hope it’s not affecting his line reciting.

You wonder what it’ll be like when you see him after three months of daily FaceTime calls, of caring for each other thousands of miles away, of slowly falling even more in love with now your best friend.

You’ve spent every day getting to know each other even more, his big heart and support always filling the gaps of your loneliness. But now, here in London, the distance is nearly gone. Only a couple more hours until you’re reunited.

You finish your bath and wrap yourself in one of the plush robes hanging from a golden hook.

Your bare feet pad against the plush rug as you settle on the large couch in the living room. You’re far too tired to change into anything else. You’ll watch an episode of The Simpsons and then get changed to greet Dieter. You must stay up to combat the damn jet lag.

—-

It feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest when he unlocks the door and swings it open. He hears the faint sound of the TV in the living room. You’re home.

“Swee—” your name stops in his throat when he gets his first sight of you in person after three long months. He forgets how to breathe when he takes in every detail of your sleeping figure: the way your hair spills across the cushion, the soft rise and fall of your chest, the smooth skin of your chest revealed to him from your robe shifting in your slumber. His mouth waters when he sees the curve of your breast.

He quietly steps closer, watching you, trying to allow the image of you to take place in his memory—the curve of your lips, the way the tv shadows dance across your skin, the soft skin of your exposed thigh. You look so perfect, like you’ve always been here for him.

“Sweets,” he says quietly as he inches closer and kneels, his heart pulling him to you.

You slightly awaken at the sound of his voice, your eyes fluttering open before they widen in disbelief and joy.

“Dieter,” you breathe, your voice hoarse with sleep.

He’s no longer just looking at you through a tiny screen; you’re here, flesh and blood and warmth, right in front of him. His golden girl.

“You’re here,” you say as you sit up and stretch your arms above your head, the plush robe shifting even more.

“I am. And you’re here.”

“I missed you,” you confess.

“I missed you too. C-can I hug you? I need to make sure I’m not imagining you.”

You giggle as you nod. “I’m real Dee.”

He smiles wide as he ambles up the couch and pulls you close to his side, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. He breathes in your sweet scent of almond and honey. You smell so fucking good and now you’re here with him.

“Well, I was going to take you out for dinner, but then you’d have to change out of that robe,” he smirks.

—-

Dieter sits across from you at the dining room table in his suite, now also clad in a fluffy robe to match you.

Frank Ocean softly croons through the speakers as you take a final bite of your sticky toffee pudding. You feel like you’re in heaven, the past couple of months and the loneliness and heartbreak all seem worth it for this perfect moment.

“Where are your bags?” Dieter asks sparking a joint, obviously too famous and rich for rules posted on the back of the door of his luxury hotel suite.

“They’re in the guest room,” you casually respond as you watch him exhale a cloud of smoke.

“Oh,” he pauses, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “You’re welcome to stay in my room… with me.”

“I didn’t want to overstep,” you reply as you take the joint from his outstretched hand and take a hit. His eyes soften as he watches you and he leans back in his chair.

“Overstep? Sweets, this is your home for the next couple of weeks. It’s not overstepping, it’s where I want you to be… if it’s where you want to be.”

His warmth wraps around you even more than the robe you wear.

“It is,” you softly respond.

“I’ve been counting down the days until I could wake up next to you again,” he confesses, leaning forward with his elbows resting on the table.

“Then I guess we need to move my luggage.”

—-

He gives you the top two drawers of his dresser, he wonders if you noticed that they were already cleaned out for you. He hangs your sweaters up next to his clothes in his closet, he loves how his clothes look next to yours.

Your toothbrush is now next to his, your favorite lotion sits on the nightstand, and your purse sits on the console table next to the door.

For the next ten days he gets to pretend like you live together, here in this fancy London hotel suite. He almost suggests to you going to bed early, only so he can hold you close.

“So,” you say, zipping up your suitcase. “What kind of cartoons does this hotel get?”

He grins. “I’ve become an expert at British cartoon schedules.”

“Great!” you say, pulling down the comforter and climbing into his bed. “Is it okay if we watch them in here?”

Once again, you’ve read his mind. He smiles as he gets in next to you. You take advantage of the bed dipping and scoot next to him, laying your head on his chest.

“Is this okay?” you ask. “I’ve missed this.”

He wonders if you can feel the beat of his heart thrum for you. “It’s more than okay. I’ve missed it too.”

—-

The hum of the shower filters through the hotel room as you lay in bed, thankful that Britain gets episodes of Bob’s Burgers.

You catch glimpses of Dieter’s shadow through the frosted bathroom door as he moves about. It all feels so intimate and yet familiar, like you’ve always belonged right here with him.

Exhaustion weighs down your body as you settle deeper into the luxurious bed. Finally, you’re with Dieter again.

The door creaks open, your heartbeat quickens when he finally steps out, clad in only a pair of low slung pajama pants. His golden skin gleams in the changing shadows being cast from the tv. His hair is slicked back, his handsome face that you’ve missed so much is on full display as he lifts the blanket and slides in beside you.

“Hey,” he says softly, a tired smile stretching across his lips as he leans on one elbow looking down at you with searching eyes.

“Hi,” you whisper. He smells so good and fresh—like eucalyptus and citrus.

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

“I am too.”

His smile fades for a moment, replaced by a look of something deeper, a look that mirrors your own.

You scoot closer, your bodies gently touching beneath the covers. The warmth of him seeps into you, the last remnants of loneliness from back home dissipating as you fall asleep, finally, in his arms.

—-

You softly breathe in your sleep, he can hardly believe you’re finally here. The soft rise and fall of your chest, the way your lashes flutter against your cheeks, the gentle sounds you let out as you slumber. Your lips are parted, the same lips he’s been craving to kiss since he left your home three months ago. The high moonlight shines in from the large windows that lead to the large terrace where he would often sit and miss you. Now, you’re here… finally and it all feels like a dream.

The loneliness was often too much for him, causing him to decline invitations to parties from friends or dinners with co-stars just to spend an hour talking to you.

Everything feels right as you cuddle in closer next to him in your sleep. The ache of longing has now transformed into something softer and warm. He brushes his fingers lightly over your arm, tracing invisible patterns on your skin, careful not to wake you. He loves watching you sleep, you look so peaceful, free from the worry and doubt that your soon-to-be ex-husband has poisoned you with. Just being near you makes him feel complete; he feels like the luckiest man on earth, having his golden girl back in his arms.

He closes his eyes and drifts to sleep, now no longer having to dream of holding you. 

—-

“Sweets.” A whisper of a deep voice against your ear gently rumbles you awake. “I gotta get going.”

Your eyes open to Dieter, a soft smile lifts his face in the early morning light. It’s the most beautiful thing to wake up to.

"Oh,” you yawn. “I’ll walk you out.”

You lift off the covers and take his outstretched hand, his fingers curling around yours as he gently pulls you to your feet.

He holds your hand all the way to the door of the suite, before turning to you, reluctance weighing his features.

“I don’t want to go, you just got here,” he whines.

You chuckle, straightening the collar of his jacket. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” you assure. “Now go.”

He sighs before leaning in and leaving a kiss against your forehead. He slightly pulls away, his dark brown eyes staring into yours before they flicker down to your lips. You take a breath, inhaling the scent of him.

HIs eyes linger on your lips, his breath warm against your skin. Time slows as he leans in, closing the distance between you. His lips brush yours softly, tentative and questioning. You respond, pressing closer, and suddenly, just like that, after all the years of pent up longing and stolen glances…

His mouth captures yours fully and urgently. The plush lips you’ve imagined kissing again cover yours. His hands you’ve dreamed of feeling on your body come up to cradle your face, his body you’ve craved to feel backs yours against the wall. His tongue seeks entrance to your mouth and you allow it, parting your lips with a soft gasp. He groans, the sound vibrating through your body as you thread your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer.

His lips move against yours, his hands sliding down to your waist, his thick fingers splaying against your back as he pulls you flush against him. A soft moan escapes your lips as his tongue sweeps across yours. His stubble rasps against your skin as he trails kisses along your jaw and down your neck. Your fingers tighten around the waves of his hair as he nips and sucks at your pulse. You tug at his hair, a low groan escapes from his throat as he kisses his way back to your lips.

Every lick of his tongue into your mouth, every shared moan, every touch of his skin against yours, this is what you’ve wanted ever since that first night, ever since the first time his lips met yours in that dim dive bar.

A sharp ring breaks through your kiss. Dieter’s phone rings insistently nearby on the table by the door. His body tenses against yours before pulling back reluctantly.

“I can’t believe this,” he mutters under his breath, glancing at the offending device.

“You should get it,” you suggest softly, your heart sinking.

With a resigned sigh, he releases you and steps towards the table. He swipes to answer, you watch him, marveling at how close he is, how real all of this feels. Finally.

“Yeah, I know, I’ll be down right now,” he says into the phone, grumbling as he hangs up without a salutation.

He turns to you, his eyes rounding in apology. “I’m so sorry Sweets, the car service has been waiting for me.”

“I know. Go. I’ll be here.”

His eyes bat between the door and you, before he sighs, walks over, and grabs your chin leaving a searing kiss against your lips.

“I’ll be back by 7, go down to the spa, spend the day pampering yourself, charge it to the room.”

You smile, leaning in to give him another kiss. “I will. Thank you. Now, go, before they call again.”

“Bye Sweets, have a good day.”

—-

The door clicks behind him as he steps out into the hallway, he can’t hide the huge smile on his face as he makes his way to the elevator. Your lips, goodness, your lips, your sleep rumpled face, your body underneath his shirt, he’s never seen a more beautiful sight in his life.

The elevator door closes as he leans against the polished golden metal, his heart still racing with the remnants of your kiss. He closes his eyes, savoring the taste of you still on his lips.

The elevator descends to the lobby, he feels the distance stretch between you, but it’s different now, this distance is hopeful and wishing, the type of distance that he knows is only temporary.

He wanted to stay and never leave you, but duty calls louder than desire, and he knows this role is huge for him.

The elevator dings softly as it reaches the ground floor and Dieter steps out into the bustling lobby. Lamar greets him with a smile and leads him to the waiting car.

“Is there anything you need today sir?” Lamar asks.

“Just make sure my girl is taken care of,” Dieter catches himself as he calls you his girl. “Everything gets charged to my room.” “Of course Mr. Bravo,” Lamar nods with a knowing smile as he closes the car door.

—-

You do as Dieter tells you. You spend your first day in London treating yourself to a day at the fancy hotel spa. Once you’re relaxed and pampered, you take yourself out for afternoon tea at Rosebery, the bright and airy cafe in the hotel. You’re used to taking yourself out to meals, enjoying the peaceful solitude of your own company and a book, but today feels different. Later Dieter will be back and peaceful solitude will be traded for peaceful companionship.

The whole hotel is gorgeous, you truly feel special here, like a character from one of the classic movies you've watched a million times. You've been whisked away to another country by the handsome, ultra famous movie star who you think you’re falling in love with—and you think he might just feel the same way about you.

—-

His driver drives down the same streets and drops him off at the same entrance after another long day on set, except now it’s different. This fancy hotel has been his home for the past three months. Sure, he has a stocked fridge, a comfortable bed, and his clothes in the closet… but it was still missing you. Now, as the doorman opens his door, he feels like he’s at home, because now, he’s only ten floors away from you.

He practically jogs through the lobby to catch the next elevator.

Eight floors away. Six floors away. Four floors away. One floor away.

Home.

He makes his way across the hall to the door he’s opened every single day he’s been here. The vase of geraniums still sit on the entranceway table overflowing with pretty crimsom blooms. He blinks twice when he sees you awake on the couch, looking at your phone.

He forgers how to breathe when you look up towards him with a smile. The sight of you, after a long day, sends warmth pooling through his whole body… better than any drug or drink he’s ever had. The lamp near you casts your body in a golden hue, he swears you look like a golden goddess.

“Hey you,” you say, a cosy grin spread across your lips. “Welcome back.”

You stand to meet him half way. The space between you quickly disappears as he strides over, enveloping you in a tight embrace. He feels your body melt against him.

"I missed you,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice low.

“I missed you too,” you whisper back.

He takes a step back to admire you, taking in the sight of you—your face fresh and dewy from your spa day. “You look incredible,” he says, a hint of awe in his voice.

You shyly look down. “Thank you.”

He reaches out and gently holds your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Beautiful,” he whispers, licking his lips and leaning forward.

He kisses you again. He can’t resist the softness of your lips, the feel of your tongue against his, the little sounds you make… it’s all he’s thought about today. Three times now, he’s kissed you. He feels a sense of possessiveness as you let a small sigh out. He knew it all those years ago, that one he has tasted the sweetness of your lips, no one will ever compare.

His hands travel down to your waist, lightly brushing against the ties of your robe. He wants to pull them apart so badly, but he resists. He pulls back, breathless and slightly dazed. Your head finds its home against his chest. “So, how was your day?” he asks.

“Lovely, wonderful, super relaxing,” you reply, lifting your chin to meet his eyes again. “The spa was amazing and I felt so spoiled. It felt… surreal.”

“Surreal is good,” he replies with a smirk.

“I like surreal,” you respond.

“Oh! Look at my manicure!” you say, stepping back and proudly holding out your hands for his inspection.

He chuckles softly, tracing a finger tip along one of your nails. “They look like the sky.”

“Yep! And the stars glow in the dark,” you respond proudly.

His heart swells at how happy and relaxed you look. There have been far too many days that he would worry about you, hoping you’re happy and smiling, never quite sure of how you’re feeling. But today, as you stand before him, glowing with a wide smile on your face, he knows that you are truly happy in this moment.

“I’m starving. Do you want to just order room service or do you want to go out tonight?”

“If we stay here, I can keep my robe on,” you sheepishly respond.

“Then go ahead and order the food while I’ll go change into mine,” he says with a wink.

He hasn’t felt this happy in so long.

—-

Another delicious meal, another delicious bowl of sticky toffee pudding, another shared joint between the two of you.

“God,” you happily sigh pushing the empty dessert plate away from you. “I could eat that for every single meal.”

He chuckles, his head shaking back and forth, the way he looks at you is foreign, like you truly are the center of his world. A look you haven’t seen in years.

You’re halfway across the world from your comfortable dream home filled with all of your furniture, plush blankets, and treasures—yet right here, across the table from Dieter, feels more like home than your house has in years.

“I’ve been thinking, and tell me no if you don’t want to, but I think we should watch The Philadelphia Story tonight. Just so we can have a happy memory with it. But again you don’t have to do i—”

“That sounds amazing, Dee, I love it,” you say.

You realize you’re madly in love with him as he rises from the table and offers his hand to you with a doting smile.

—-

“No, you're made out of flesh and blood. That's the blank, unholy surprise of it. You're the golden girl, Tracy.” Dieter recites the lines along to the movie, drawing your attention. “Full of life and warmth and delight. What goes on? You've got tears in your eyes.”

He looks over at you and… you do have tears in your eyes.

The look on your face… your wide eyes, wet with tears you have yet to shed, your mouth agape as you blink at him, the small smile that’s beginning to lift your lips.

He wants to tell you everything, he feels like he finally can now after years of staying silent and trying to escape the feelings he holds for you—but first he needs to know one thing.

“Do you still love him?” he asks, shocking himself at his earnest question.

“No,” you shake your head. “I don’t think I’ve loved him for awhile, honestly. Do you still love Anika?”

“No,” he mimics your head shake. “I don’t know if I ever did.”

“Then why did you marry her?”

“Because,” he swallows ready to bare his soul to you. “I couldn’t have you.”

He watches you process his words, your brow furrowing slightly as a wave of understanding washes over you. The truth lingers in the air poignant and thick. He feels his heart constrict at the thought of what could have been—what should have been. The ache he’d always feel when Warren would touch you, kiss you, hold you. He leans closer, compelled by the invisible force that draws him into your orbit.

“You’re my golden girl sweets,” he admits, a tremor in his voice as he reaches for your hand, threading his fingers through yours. “Ever since that night in that dive bar.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles, as you search his face, a tear falling down your cheek. “For that long?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, wiping your tear away with the pad of his thumb. “For that long,” he responds with a shy smile.

He doesn’t even have time to second guess his confession, before you leap on him, straddling his body and pressing your lips against his. He embraces you, reveling in the feeling of your body against his. His body feels aflame, your need for him igniting the long smoldering burn for you within him.

You let out a soft moan as your hands slide under his robe, eagerly exploring his chest. He’s never felt your touch this way, his hips tilt up towards the heat of you still concealed by the fluffy fabric. You meet his hips, grinding down on top of him.

Ever since he first saw you, he’s wondered what this would feel like, what you would sound like, how your body would feel against his. He pulls away slightly, breathless, searching your eyes seeking reassurance after a decade of wanting you. “Are you sure?” he asks, vulnerability etched on his face.

“Dee,” you pant, “I want you.”

“God,” he says, his head tilting back to hit the couch. “That’s all I’ve needed to hear.”

You lean forward against him, leaving kisses along his neck up towards his jawline, your tongue darting out to lick a line across the strong angle of it to his mouth.

Your tongue finds his as you melt against him even more, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, erasing every distance that has ever laid between you. The only thing that lies between him and your naked body is a robe.

He pulls away, sitting up and helping you to stand. He quirks an eyebrow up at you asking for silent permission as he grabs the tie of your robe. You nod with a sweet smile, and as the robe loosens, your skin is slowly revealed to him. His breath leaves his body when you shrug the fabric off, the robe pooling behind you. His golden girl now stands bare before him, only clad in pair of dark blue panties. The glow of the lamp behind you lights your skin. You’re ethereal, like a goddess he’d pray to, backlit by the golden glow. You are his golden girl.

“Fuck…” he murmurs, his robe barely covering his hardness for you as you step towards him. There have been too many dreams to count like this that he’s woken up from, hard and leaking. He pinches his arm.

“Huh?” you ask, a look of shock crossing your face.

“I’m just making sure this is real,” he responds.

You giggle, as you settle yourself back on his lap.

“It’s real,” you whisper against his mouth before leaving a kiss against it and reaching down to untie the ties of his robe. He recognizes the look on your face as he shuffles out of the robe… want, need, lust.

Finally, your lace meets his cotton. It used to be circumstances and empty marriages separating you, now it’s just two pieces of thin fabric.

You press your body against him with desperate force, pushing over the boundary long since established by regret. For once, he feels like he’s not just holding onto the dream of you, but living it—a reality where he can finally hold you near and tell you everything he wants to say.

He wants you, he needs you, he’s thought of this so many times before—but not here on this couch.

“Baby—” he says against your lips, catching your attention. “Bedroom.”

You let out a frustrated groan, your hair tousled and lips swollen. You scoot off him and stand, panting for air with wild eyes. You’re the most gorgeous woman he’s ever seen.

—-

With your fingers intertwined, you lead him into the bedroom. Your heart is racing, you haven’t been with anybody since Warren—and now, here in London, you’re leading Dieter fucking Bravo to the bed. As soon as you both step past the threshold, he turns and presses your overheated skin against the cool wall. His lips meet yours in a desperate kiss, his strong hands gripping your hips and pulling you closer to him.

Every touch lights something within you that you didn’t know existed before. Your head falls back as he trails kisses down your neck, nipping at your skin as he moves lower and lower.

“Dieter,” you moan, your fingers tangling in his hair as he moves lower, his lips trailing down your collarbone towards your chest.

“Baby,” he whispers before forming his mouth over your breast and lightly sucking on your nipple. Not Sweets, not Golden Girl, just baby.

His tongue explores the familiar lines of your body like a map he’s memorized yet never navigated. He moves to the floor, kissing down your stomach, past the thin strap of your underwear to the birthmark on your hip shaped like a comet.

He looks up at you, big brown eyes lit with adorations stare into yours. There’s a look you can name, it’s the look you’ve secretly wanted ever since you met him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, his voice thick with awe before he kisses against your birthmark and traces the shape of it with his tongue.

His hands slide up your ass to the waistband of your underwear, with one easy movement, he pulls the lace down your legs, leaving you bare for him.

“Goddamn baby,” he whispers, voice full of awe, his hot breath tickling your skin. “Perfect, I knew it.”

You gasp as he pushes you flush against his mouth, his lips finding their way between your thighs, inhaling the scent of you, his eyes fluttering shut as his tongue finally tastes you.

You moan loudly, arching into him. His hands grip your thighs, holding you steady for him. A sound escapes him, a mix between a groan and sigh.

“Fuck baby,” he whispers against you.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, urging him closer and deeper.

“Dee,” you gasp as he kisses and sucks against your clit. He savors you, worships you, as if every dash and flick of his tongue against you imparts the knowledge of how he’s always felt about you.

Your legs begin to tremble, your hands gripping against his hair tighter to help you stay upright. His tongue swirls and teases against you, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your thigh. Lately, your fantasies have been filled with thoughts of how his plush lips would feel against you, how his tongue would taste you, and now that you have it, it’s everything you wanted it to be.

You gaze down at him, tension coiling in your belly and goosebumps prickling across your skin. He feels your eyes on him and looks up at you with hungry, desperate eyes, groaning against you. His brows knit together in concentration as he explores every inch of you with his tongue, each stroke feeling like a deep confession against your pussy.

You pull against his hair, catching his attention, his eyes wide and mouth glistening.

“Bed,” you plead.

“Okay baby,” he nods before standing and giving you a kiss that leaves the taste of you on your lips.

He leads you to the bed, his large hand in yours, gently guiding you.

With every step a new memory of him all those years ago flood your mind. He was the charming young actor who used to be your husband's best friend. Yet, there was always a spark between you two that seemed to ignite whenever your eyes met. It's been far too long, and you've endured too much sadness in your loveless marriage. Now, as you lay on the soft sheets of a luxurious hotel bed in London, there is a sense of liberation and anticipation. After months of taking care of yourself and years of longing for Dieter...you lie naked on the bed, ready and eagerly waiting for him to take you.

He reaches over to the bedside table and pulls out a box of condoms.

“Dee?” you ask, as curiosity gets the best of you.

“When’s the last time y-you—”

“Not since before you called me that night,” he reveals, his brown eyes deep as they stare into yours. Your heart races at his confession; all this time you assumed he was still sleeping around, what with him being a famous Hollywood star and all. “I’ve been waiting for you baby.”

“Dee, I have an IUD,” you smile.

“Amazing,” he grins, tossing the box behind him before hopping onto the bed and smothering you with his body.

He leaves a trail of playful, wet kisses across your face, each one eliciting a giddy giggle. You haven’t made this noise or felt this light and carefree in years - and you’re naked in bed with the best man of your wedding. The irony is not lost on you.

He pulls away, the playfulness of the moment quickly replaced by lust when you feel his hardness pressed against you. Only one more layer to go until he’s fully exposed to you.

“Off,” you say, tugging at the cotton of his boxers.

He rises to kneel, his hard cock straining against the fabric.

“Be my guest baby,” he grins, a playful glint in his eyes.

You bite your lip, eyes locked with his as you reach for the waistband of his boxers, slowly tugging them down, revealing his cock.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out, unable to stop yourself from admiring how beautiful his cock his.

He tilts his head down and watches as your hand swipes across the wide tip of him, collecting the bead of precum and smearing it across the head. He’s so thick.

“Fucking hell,” he groans. “I can’t believe this.”

He pinches himself again, earning a giggle from you as you admire his naked body.

Broad everywhere and golden skinned… you can’t believe you ever wanted anybody else.

Dieter’s lips find yours again, kissing you deeply as his hands roam over your body, his fingers trailing down your stomach, achingly close to where you need to feel him the most.

“Dee,” you gasp against his lips, arching into his touch. His fingers swipe against the wetness you’ve been spilling out for him before slipping one inside, eliciting a long, low moan from you.

With each slow stroke, he watches your reaction, a glimmer of fascination illuminating his eyes as you arch your back and gasp.

“God, baby, you’re so wet,” he whispers against your neck, his free hand gently squeezing your breast before teasing your nipple with his thumb and forefinger.

You rock against him, hips meeting his hand, needing more from him.

“Need you Dee,” you whimper, as his thumb swirls against your clit.

“I need you too,” he growls, removing his hand and positioning himself at your entrance.

Your hips arch, inviting him in. You’re gasping for air, years and years of anticipation, of an innocent crush, of wanting somebody you thought you could never have and now, now, he enters you with one swift thrust, filling you completely, stretching you in ways you’d forgotten possible. Finally, you’re connected to him in such an intimate way. He moves slowly at first, gently rocking in and out. Your hands grip onto his broad shoulders, nails digging into his golden skin as his thrusts slowly and achingly hit deeper.

“Fuck,” he pants, his eyes squeezed shut, trying to hold back the barrage of sensations flooding through him. “You’re so tight.”

His steady strokes meeting with your gasps and moans echo across the large hotel room. Your body moves with his, your hands roaming across his chest before wrapping your fingers around his fluffy hair.

“Dee,” you moan, unable to form any other words as every nerve in your body is lit by him.

He leans forward, sealing his mouth over yours, swallowing every sound you moan for him.

“For so long,” he whispers against your lips. “Wanted this for so long.”

The heat between you builds until it’s almost unbearable, you’re getting closer and closer to the edge.

“Cum for me baby,” Dieter strains. “I want to feel you cum for me.”

He thrusts in and out of you slow and steady and with one final thrust, your orgasm blasts through you like an exploding star. You’re a supernova colliding down to earth and shattering into molten golden bits. Your walls clench around Dieter’s cock, as you cry his name over and over.

Your body shudders beneath him, fingernails digging into his back, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist.

He gazes down at you in awe, watching your face contort in ecstasy, feeling your walls flutter and clench around him, drawing him in deeper.

"That's it, baby," he coos. "Cum for me. You're so beautiful."

He kisses you as he edges himself closer, your body feels as if it’s still glowing as he pounds into your pussy.

“Fuck, I knew iiit,” Dieter grits as he follows soon after, his body trembling above you, a cascade of warmth flooding inside as he releases himself with a deep, primal groan.

You’re lost in each other, suspended in this one moment—a universe now made of your shared breaths and gentle kisses.

Dieter’s weight presses gently on you, a pulse of a feeling you haven’t felt in so long beats through your heart.

He kisses your forehead before rolling off of you. You turn on your side to face him, studying his features in the low light. The gentle wave of his hair, the slight curl of his lips as he drifts in and out of bliss. A smile creeps onto your face, a mix of disbelief and joy.

He rises on shaky legs, his dark brown hair tousled, a dopey grin on his face. “Be right back.”

You giggle at the surreality when he moves across the room with his naked body on full display. The muscles of his back flex as he walks, and you take the opportunity to admire the curve of his ass. Damn. He’s perfect.

He disappears into the bathroom and you hear the soft rush of water from the faucet. Damn. He’s thoughtful.

He’s no longer just your friend or the famous movie star. He’s now something so much more to you, especially as he returns, naked and unabashed, moving towards you with such tender purpose.

A warm damp towel rests in his hand as he approaches the bed. The mattress dips slightly under his weight as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“Spread for me baby,” he gently says.

You’re not even shy as his eyes roam your naked body still loose and glowing from your orgasm.

You spread your legs and he gulps. “Amazing,” he says with reverence as his cum drips out of you. He gently cleans you, his brows knit in concentration, his brown eyes focused on the task.

He tosses the rag on top of his boxers before sliding back into bed next to you. His warm body presses against yours as he wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you close.

His earring glistens in the soft light of the bedside lamp. It beckons you, but now, you can finally touch it with zero fear. Your finger traces the golden shape of it, before trailing down to the stubble on his jaw. He turns his head, pressing a soft kiss to your palm.

“Surreal is good,” you echo his words from earlier.

“Mm,” he hums, his big brown eyes looking at you with deep affection. “In fact, I think I love surreal.”

---

A/N: Hi, yes, hello. Things are happening. I'm working on the next chapter right now, and that'll be the festive Christmas/New Years chapter. It'll be post holiday time. Thank you, as always for reading, and (hopefully) loving these two just as much as me.

[victorbutnotreally]

ACADEMIC VALIDATION - LEE MINHO X MALE READER

A/N: i'm back!! heavily inspired by myself. to all the people struggling with their studies, you got this! your grades only define a part of you, a part of you that can be molded however you want.

warnings: thunderstorms, mental breakdown, mentions of dying, unrealistic expectations from parents, min's parents are horrible in this.

"You have so much potential, Minho! Where's that little boy who's always eager to learn, huh?? You got an A in maths instead of your usual A*. I can't believe this!!"

"Mom, let me-"

"No!! You're in university, for god's sake! Pull yourself together! Stop hanging out with your friends and you better study, young man-"

"I-"

"Or do you not want to achieve anything? Do you want to be stuck somewhere with part time jobs, barely making a living??"

An A is still a good grade, Mom! he wanted to say, but he didn't dare to. He wanted to scream and shout and defend himself, but he wasn't allowed to. The words were just fading echoes in his ears till the sound of the call ending snapped him back to reality.

His parents see his mistakes, but only that. It wasn't an easy exam, and only one person got an A*. But of course, his parents wouldn't understand that, because he used to get full marks for everything without even studying as a child. And even now, he's mostly relying on his memory and math skills. He doesn't know how to study. Why would you know how to study when you're "gifted"? God, he hated that term. He would beam with pride when he got called that till middle school. Things started going downhill in high school, but he picked it up somehow. Mostly to compete with Mn. And now, in one of the most prestigious universities in the world, he was doing well. Very well, actually. But his parents won't understand. Why would they, when their son is "gifted"?

Sobs wracked his body as he threw his phone onto the bed and slid down against the wall. He wished the wall had arms to hold him, since his parents never did. He wished his wall would come to life, talk to him, kiss his hair and wipe his tears away. He sat with his legs to his chest and his arms on his knees, but that wasn't comforting enough. He curled up into a fetal position on the ground as he sobbed. He didn't have friends. He was always alone growing up, and he was fine, since life wasn't so cruel back then. His comfort was being alone, but he wants to be held right now.

He pulls himself up somehow, going to the bathroom to wash his face. He had an image to maintain. The thunder seemed to rattle the windows and the lightning struck. On any other day, he would've admired thunderstorms, but the sounds and the light overwhelmed him at the moment. He opened the door to his dorm room and walked down the hallway. Mn. The only one who got an A* in the maths test. He wanted Mn. Sure, they wouldn't exactly be termed as 'friends', but he's the closest thing Minho has to one.

Mn heard the knock on his door and wondered who it was at this time of the night. It was 1:03. He went up to the door and and looked through the peephole. Minho? He opened the door, and before he could say anything, Minho threw himself into his arms.

"Min-"

The moment he felt those strong arms wrap around him, Minho lost control. He clung onto Mn like a lifeline, burying his face in the crook of his neck. His sobs echoed in the quiet room, his body shaking from the force of his emotions. And to Mn, the sound of his sobs seemed to pierce him deeper than the lightning. He buried his face into Mn's shirt, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. He's never cried like this before, but something about seeing his calm, collected expression makes the floodgates open. The last time he broke down like this was…well, he didn't remember.

"I-I'm sorry," he chokes out between hiccups, voice muffled against Mn's chest. He's too embarrassed to meet those piercing eyes, but at the same time, he craves his warmth and stability. "Just needed someone…"

He takes a deep breath, trying to regain some composure. When he finally looks up, his dark eyes are puffy and red, and filled with vulnerability rare of him. "Please don't think less of me, Mn."

Mn's expression softened, his hand went up from Minho's back to his face, wiping away his tears.

"Of course not…not for this. Come inside," he says, pulling Minho inside the room once he realized they were still in the doorway. The door clicks shut behind them, loud thunder accompanying the sharp sound.

"What happened, Minho?"

The soft gaze, the gentle tone of someone who's supposed to be his rival, opened the floodgates once more. Years worth of bottled up emotions came out at once as he broke down in his rival's arms. Mn could do nothing but rub his back and hold him close. Minho didn't need anything else. He just wanted to be held. Minho's arms squeezed him tighter as his sobs grew louder. He buried his face in his chest so deep as if he wanted to be lodged in his ribcage, right next to his heart.

"They- they think I'm so smart…I'm not…I'm not smart or anything.."

More sobs.

"I can't do this anymore, Mn, I can't…I'll die at this rate. I just wanna disappear and stop worrying about all this."

"Oh, Minho.." Mn felt a strange protectiveness over the boy nestled so comfortably in his arms. His heart felt warm knowing that Minho came to him out of all people, but at the same time, he felt sad, knowing that Minho didn't really have anyone else.

"What if I don't get a job? What if adulting is harder than I thought? What if…what if I don't graduate?"

The last question was followed by hysterical sobs. If it weren't for the thunderstorm, Mn was sure he would've woken up the whole floor with his cries.

"I-I c-can't do this anymore, Mnie…I can't..p-please.."

"Okay..okay..we'll take a break for a while, yeah?"

"C-Can't…have to..study..I have to-"

"Minho."

Minho looked up from Mn's chest, eyes teary and red.

"How long has it been since you slept?"

"I- I don't know, Mn.." He said Mn's name with such softness, such…vulnerability.

Mn reached to wipe away Minho's tears and reached out to grab some tissues for him.

"Here."

Minho shakily took the tissues, mumbling a small 'thank you' as he wiped his face. He slowly got up, his feet somehow being able to carry his weight now as he went to the bathroom and washed his face. He came out of the bathroom to see Mn making tea.

"Y-You don't have to," Minho said, his voice sore and shaky from all the crying.

"Sit down, Min. Talk to me, okay?"

He obediently sat down, quite unusual for him. But right now, he just wants to hand everything to someone else. And he didn't think he'd be so open with Mn.

"I just..I got an A instead of an A*. I wasn't disappointed with it because it was a super tough exam, but my mom called and said a lot of things. Like I'm wasting my potential. I didn't hear the rest, I was so tired. Don't…pity me. Please."

"I won't. I don't. And you're not wasting your potential, okay?," Mn started, handing Minho a cup of tea. "You're one of the best students here. And one slight drop in your grade doesn't make you stupid. Besides, A is such a good grade."

Minho sips his tea, the warmth of the teacup a comfort to his cold hands. He listened intently to Mn's words, as if memorising them. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up, a small smile finding its way to his lips.

"You're good enough. I'm proud of you."

"You're good enough." The words rang in Minho's head, louder than the thunderstorm outside. He felt safe. He felt like he could admire it again. He sets down the teacup and hugged him again, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder.

"Thank you."

taglist:

@forever-atiny

[averagecygnet-blog]

one thing I absolutely adore about tgwdlm is how completely and irrevocably a stage musical it is. it HAS to be a stage musical - the medium is so deeply baked into the story that it truly would not translate to another medium.

some reasons why:

the musical style is old-fashioned in a way that screams classic broadway. you can't get away from it, especially in songs like "lah dee dah dah day" and "show stoppin number". and it's not just the music, it's the dancing too - have you ever seen a kickline in a movie musical, once, ever? or jazz hands? gimme a break

along similar lines - all the broadway references! hamilton of course, but also wicked and mamma mia and jekyll & hyde

all the attention deliberately brought to the lighting and set! the performers in "la dee dah dah day" loudly saying "lights down!" when it's over; ted, paul, and emma striking the stage after "show stoppin number"; the lighting panels used as sirens, TVs, showcasing hudgins' alexa, and more; ted wheeling the big meteor prop off the stage after "let it out". they don't let you forget that we're in a theater.

all the hokey ass miming and special effects???? charlotte and hudgins having their guts ripped out is flashy and fun onstage because of the intestine props. emma and ted having blood capsules in their mouths. paul, emma, and zoey violently shaking when pantomiming being in a helicopter. ted running in place, moving forward or back to suggest movement across the road. it's all so fun and consistently reminds you that this is a stage

double-casting as intentional obstruction of the truth. we're used to seeing one actor play several roles in a musical, so when a familiar face shows up in a new costume we assume it's a new character. but it was zoey flying the helicopter to clivesdale, and I think it was zoey in the hospital at the end as well. you couldn't pull that shit in a movie because movies don't double-cast.

the role of the audience, the laughter and gasps and reactions and applause, especially the applause at the end when emma is begging the audience members to let her use their phone and demanding to know why they're clapping; sure movies have audiences too but the presence of the audience as part of the story makes a point about societal ideals as something we all have a part in that a movie just couldn't make in the same way

on a related note - emma's sudden awareness of the stage and the audience as the horror trope where the person realizes they're trapped and will imminently die. she knows she can't escape because it's just a fuckin loop. she knows no one will save her because they're all clapping. you couldn't do that in a movie because in a movie there is a fourth wall, whereas on a stage there's nowhere for the characters to run away. on a stage the characters can look you, the audience, directly in the eye, with no camera or screen between you

I will literally never shut up about that curtain call

god damn what I wouldn't give to watch this show performed live

[jessjad]

Time and Space

Summary: Dean knows that something's going on with Y/N. Something she's not ready talk about. And eventhough she's doesn't say anything, he can see that pain she's feeling. Will he break the wall she has build up?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1468

Warnings: Sadness, a little heartache, worries, but some fluff too.

A/N: Again, this happened because I was in a certain mood and I needed to express it. Life is kinda hard at the moment... anyway. All mistakes are mine! Enjoy!

My Masterlist

With his arms crossed and his brows furrowed, Dean stood in the hallway of the bunker in front of Y/N's door, brooding to himself. He felt a bit helpless, and that was something he didn't like at all. Dean was the 'fix it' man. He found a solution for everything. But when it came to Y/N, he was more often at a loss than he liked. His girlfriend constantly presented him with challenges. But this time was different.

It happened a week ago. At first, they were sitting comfortably in the kitchen, enjoying a late breakfast, and two hours later, Y/N's good mood had vanished. Dean had noticed immediately and asked if she was okay, if anything had happened. But she had brushed him off and told him not to worry. He had accepted it a bit reluctantly, but when he saw Y/N crying that evening, it had confirmed Dean's feeling. That same evening she had changed bedrooms and was sleeping alone ever since.

When Dean asked again, somewhat surprised, what was wrong, Y/N's reaction wasn't quite as relaxed as before. She made it clear that she wanted to be alone. That she needed some time for herself, and Dean was willing to give it to her. He wasn't mad at her either, because he sensed it was something more serious. Not just the usual mood swings she went through every time she got PMS. So Dean gave in, left Y/N alone, and watched her from a distance. He just couldn't take his eyes off her completely.

So he did little things. Y/N liked pancakes with fried eggs, so he made her that for breakfast. He had bought her the book she'd been holding the last time they'd gone shopping together. She loved sleeping in his dark blue Henley, so he washed it and left it on her bed. Dean kept trying to show her he was there with little things, even when Y/N wasn't talking to him.

It was driving him crazy. Dean wanted to help her, he wanted to get her out of the hole she was probably in, but he also didn't want to force himself on her. What was right? How should he behave? He didn't know. Because sometimes, just sometimes, Y/N would suddenly be standing behind him or near him and it looked like she wanted to say something. But she never did. It was like she just didn't have the strength for it. So now Dean had decided to be that strength for her.

"Dean?" he heared his brothers voice softly behind him and he turned around.

Sam nodded with his head toward the kitchen and with a sigh and a quick look back at Y/N's door he followed him. There was a worried expression on Sam's face as he waited for Dean to stop next to him.

"How can I help?" he asked, without having to explain what it was about.

Dean's eyes softened a bit. "I don't know." he answered truthfully. "Even I have no idea how to help her. I just know that things can't go on like this."

Now Dean let his shoulders slump a little and ran both hands over his face.

"And what are you planning?" Sam continued, putting his hands in his pockets. He was eager to help them both, no matter what.

"I'll talk to her. See if I can get through to her.. And then..." Dean thought aloud. "...I'll go on from there."

"You want me to leave the bunker? Give you guys some privacy?" Sam suggested, but Dean waved him off.

"No, no. Stay. It's fine. If I'm not successful, I need someone to have a drink with me." he tried to lighten the situation a bit, but Sam saw through him and Dean knew that.

Five minutes later, Dean was standing in front of the door Y/N had been hiding behind all day. So he took another deep breath and knocked softly on the dark wood. He didn't get an answer, but he opened the door anyway. He cautiously looked into the room and saw Y/N sitting on her bed, her phone in her hand, a few silent tears streaming down her cheeks. The sight almost broke Dean's heart, and he had to swallow a little bit.

"Hey sweatheart..." he said gently, but Y/N still did not look up.

Dean left the door slightly ajar and slowly walked over to her. On her phone screen, he saw a picture of one of her friends. He couldn't remember her name, but he knew she was very important to Y/N. They went through the trenches together and had always had their backs. It was important in this Hunter life to have people you could count on. Who were family.

He carefully knelt down in front of Y/N so that they were almost eye level. She looked at him briefly, but her gaze quickly wandered back to her phone. He had torn her from her thoughts and saw them disappear from her view. Now Dean tried to hold back his own tears and placed a hand lightly on her leg.

"I really don't want to pressure you, but... you're starting to scare me a little." Y/N's tears had dried up by now, and now she looked at him. "You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to. I know that... that the life we ​​lead can be hard. It demands a lot from you, and sometimes the things we experience are almost unbearable. Trust me, I know."

Y/N closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. But suddenly, the distance between them didn't seem quite so big anymore.

"But Y/N... please don't shut me out." And then a tear ran down his cheek, and Y/N's eyes widened slightly. "I want to help you, be there for you. No matter what."

The silence that followed this statement was almost deafening. But Dean saw in Y/N's eyes that she was beginning to understand. And then she let him back in a little.

"I know," she whispered, looking down again. Her phone screen had gone black by now.

Dean gently stroked her cheek with his hand, and she leaned slightly into the touch.

"Do you still need time?"

After a moment's thought, Y/N nodded. "Yes."

Dean put his hand down again and nodded in understanding. "And space, too?"

Now she looked at him again, and new tears seemed to gather in her eyes. But then she shook her head, and Dean smiled slightly.

"Okay," he said, standing up again.

Y/N followed his movements with her eyes and saw him hold out his hand to her when he stood up again. The smile hadn't yet disappeared from his face and she still looked at him questioningly.

"Come on. I've prepared something."

So she placed her hand in his and got up from the bed. The warmth that radiated from Dean's hand permeated her body, bringing back the warmth she'd been missing. She let him lead her out of the bedroom and followed him to the Dean Cave. Once there, she looked around in surprise.

The lights were dim, and on the coffee table were all the snacks and drinks Y/N liked. The couch was pulled out and covered with pillows and blankets, so you could almost sink into it. On the TV, she saw one of her favorite movies ready to watch. Dean couldn't imagine how much all this meant to her. Everything he had done for her in the last week really.

Still holding Y/N's hand, he walked over to the couch. Only then did he let her go, lay down under the covers on the pillows, and opened his arms for her. He didn't have to wait long before Y/N lay down next to him. With her head on his chest, almost half on top of him, Dean tucked them both in. He reached for the remote and started the movie.

But Y/N hardly looked. She hugged Dean tightly and enjoyed bathing in his warmth. His scent enveloped her, and it felt as if it were breathing new life into her limbs. Dean, too, had his arms tightly around her and repeatedly kissed her forehead. He kept to himself that this was somehow healing him too.

"I love you." Y/N said suddenly, and Dean's heart filled with warmth again.

"I love you too." he replied, wrapping his arms even tighter around the woman who held his heart.

And he knew they were on the road to recovery. Even though Y/N ​​still wasn't ready to talk, and maybe she never would be about this, he could still support her. And he was sure everything would be okay. Step by step, day by day. And he would help her until she was herself again.

A/N: We all should have Dean body pillow... Thanks for everyone who was reading! 💜💜

@lyarr24 @k-slla @nk1023  @sherlockstrangewolf @hobby27

@applelovesposts @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing (lovely, I try to tag you all the time, but it does not seem to work. If you're seeing this, please check your settings maybe? 🤔)

[jammatown919]

I've said to a few people that my ratio of blame for the argument that broke the camel's back is about 80% Yaz and 20% Sammy due to Yaz's attitude about her and Sammy's disagreement over Brooklynn (both sides had completely fair points and valid feelings but Yaz was very unfair in the way she spoke), but I think for their problems in general it's more of an even split where they both have several bad communication habits they need to work on to avoid something like this happening to them again. Yaz

Isn't always honest about how she feels

Decides what she's going to do and just does it with little to no discussion even if it's not what's best for the unit

Can get too stubborn about thinking she's right to the point she trivializes and dismisses feelings she doesn't agree with instead of trying to understand them

Has shown at least two instances of resorting to name-calling and/or other rude remarks when she firmly believes she's right and the other person is wrong (I believe this was largely due to a highly stressed out state of mind in which she was concerned for Brooklynn's safety and lashed out because she was worried the others' reluctance to help her might get her hurt, but it still happened)

Sammy

Isn't always honest about how she feels

Bottles up emotions until she's really, really upset and can't control them

Can be passive aggressive when upset

Doesn't completely respect Yaz's need for space during arguments (gets mad at her for suggesting taking a beat in season one) but expects hers to be respected (gets mad at her for continuing to pursue the conversation in season three)

This is something that, as far as we know as the audience, has been slowly building up over the course of several months to a year, primarily due to a severe delay in honest communication. From what I can gather, ever since Yaz has started trying to recover from her PTSD on her own without Sammy's help, they have stopped telling each other when they have a problem. Yaz most likely did not try to have a real conversation with Sammy about feeling coddled (according to Sammy, there was little to no communication about her moving at all). Sammy most likely did not try to directly tell Yaz how lonely she was after the move (I simply cannot believe that Yaz would not have made more attempts to reach out if it had been plainly laid out for her).

By the time they tell each other their grievances, they're upset and defensive because they've been sitting on their problems for months. They both feel that they have completely valid reasons for what they're doing and they both feel that the other has done something wrong, and they're both right. The lack of honest communication is a mutual problem and the foundation of the majority of their issues. Without this background, I do not believe that they would have broken up over the Brooklynn argument, nor do I think Sammy would have felt as strongly about it because a lot of her feelings toward Brooklynn right now parallel her feelings toward Yaz.

But they have to realize this now. Maybe they could ignore it when they were back to being fine soon after every argument because some threat caused them to come back together without talking about anything. But now it's caused them to break up. They have to know now that something has to change if they're going to make this work again. They're so, so obviously still in love, and with the two groups heading to the same place and them inevitably coming back into proximity with each other, I don't know how long they're going to be able to hold themselves back from approaching each other. They both clearly want to talk. Yaz kept asking for Sammy before leaving Italy. Sammy watched her through the door like she was considering coming outside to say something.

Dysfunctional communication over a long period of time can completely drain a person emotionally, and I completely understand the decision to just walk away from it. But these are two people who love each other deeply, and even at the worst of their problems, want to connect and be together and are devastated by the idea of losing each other. They need to sit with this for a bit. Come to terms with what really caused it to get this bad. And once they do, they'll come back to each other, because they love each other too much to not fight for this relationship. They both have work to do, but they love each other too much not to do it.

[hootyhoowoo]

ah! I totally get keeping your ao3 private! in any case, do you have any svsss fic recs you’d shout out? any ships is fine! bingqiu, Liujiu, 79, Liushen, I’ll take it!

Okay i'm sorry this took so long!! I was trying to look through my fics and see what would be appropriate to post bwaahahah

So disclaimer, i'm more of a one-shot type of reader for the most part, I really enjoy a nice hearty and wordy piece. I'm also a whore so I enjoy a lot of pwps!! I delve into omegaverse and some dead dove fics a lot too so please READ THE TAGS before reading

Also, these are more of my own personal reviews of the fics? You can read the summaries +tags to find out more :D I'm sure the authors can summarize better than I can

but anyway, I'll start out with the fics recommended to me by others, and ones that are so widely loved by the fandom!

These are multi-chaptered:

"I Wish You Were My Husband"- Feynite; Bingqiu, Liushen, and Qijiu all in one!

This fic was recommended by a good friend of mine, and it is sooo good anon. It's got wife stealing, love triangles, and is sooo hilariously funny it's made me genuinely laugh out loud while reading. There was times where I felt like I was just reading canon content and had to remind myself this wasn't mxtx writing. The author does a wonderful job in delving into Shen Qingqiu/Shen Yuan's inner mental gymnastics, and the complicated history and relationships between the different pairings is so tangible and well done. Not to mention the dialogue between SQQ and SQH made me CACKLE.

"Like A Tooth From a Mouth (I Leave A Hole)- Anonymous; Bingyuan (?)

Okay I started this fic but still haven't gotten through all of it, but the first chapter (first few paragraphs really) captivated me so much I was instantly hooked. Actually, I may draw this out at some point bc I really love the beginning of this fic. So angsty. So well written- especially once Liu Qingge gets introduced, he's so cute and I really like the dynamics of everyone in this one. Disciple!Shen yuan with his system and Shizun!Luo Binghe will always be messy and i'm here for it <3

"Shen Yuan of No Relation"- Gemi ; Bingyuan, Qijiu (i'll probably come back and edit if needed)

Ahhh. Ze fic of all time. OKAY so I haven't actually finished this one yet, i'm currently still reading. BUT I WILL SAY: It is so good so far. So good. The author's writing feels so hearty and their descriptions of the setting is something I fell in love with immediately. The way they write the characters is very endearing and i'm giddy with excitement to continue to read c: This fic was very very recommended by multiple friends so i'm happy to finally start it!!

"Love in Another Shape"- Celardor ; Starts Liushen -> Bingliu -> Bingliushen

Okay this fic was recommended to me by the same person who recommended IWYWMH so you know this shit is bangin. I have not read this yet, but I have had many people gush about it to me and had the lovely opportunity to chat w the author and they are the sweetest person so I'm very excited to start it next!!

'Satisfaction'- Raiiskaim ; Bingjiu

ohohoho ok- can I just say I love Raiiskaim's works, but this one is soooo delicious. It's got dead-dove like elements so be warned, but ahhh the follow up to this fic is "Discontent, and the spaces inbetween" and dude omg the ending literally made me gasp. Can't recommend this enough if it's your flavor.

"Blessing in disguise" - chamsie; ...implied Qijiu?

yeah i like omegaverse and i will not be shamed about it on my own blog. BUT this one is not...your typical pwp omegaverse fic. It's very shen jiu centered around him and his babby- shen yuan! it's very cute and good and I quite enjoyed it when I read it a whiiiile ago. Actually, I think it's time for a re-read. heh

-

These next ones are one shots

"We Should Stick Together" and "You're My Best Friend, I'll Love You Forever" - Pennydaniels; Liujiu

ohhhh my god. OHHHH MY GOOOOODDDD. Do you ever read a fic and have it touch something so deeply in you and it's like a soothing balm to a really rough aching burn? yeah so that's how these two fics are to me. I vividly remember reading them on an airplane and literally crying my eyes out I had to ask the flight attendant for tissues- and got side eyed by the other passengers. Specifically YMBF,ILYF.... this fic definitely shaped the way I would like to be loved. Excellent works, definitely recommend, read tags, as always. Pennydaniels is one of my fav ao3 authors, so definitely recommend checking out their other stuff too!

"Through the Widening Circles"- ancient_moonshine ; Bingjiu

Please read tags. It didn't bother me but ik it may not be everyone's flavor- but trust me when I say that this fic also made me sob like a baby, especially towards the end. The author does a great job of navigating through trauma and healing in such a touching way, but it is a pretty heavy fic because of these delicate topics. Such a good read, and I think one of my first SVSSS fanfics too!

"Vedaniya" - ancient_moonshine ; Bingjiu

Once again another fic by this amazing author, this one is a little more kinky ehehe but it's still very good and there's a gut wrenching scene that gets me every time near the beginning.

Anyways I hope this list satisfies! I can't wait to read more and get recommended more as we keep going on this scummy adventure :D if you have any recs, please be sure to drop them down below or in my inbox :3 always happy to add to my queue of reads.

[we-are-inevitable]

am i in the frame from your point of view? // javid

"Katherine Pulitzer."

"David Jacobs," Katherine says, not even looking up from the Essential Journalism textbook she's currently hunched over. She looks like hell, her red curls all over the place, chunky-framed glasses perched on the tip of her nose, and she's wearing an old navy-colored hoodie that reads Trinity School on the front. Dead week has claimed another life, or something. David thinks she could use a break.

Which is why the next words that come out of his mouth, just three seconds after he very abruptly sat in front of her at her table in the library, are: "Remember how I told you I was swearing off men?"

This catches Katherine's attention, clearly, because she looks up at him, her blue ink pen falling limp to the table. "Oh, David, no. Who is it?"

"Look," He starts, defensive. He takes a breath as he pushes his own glasses up, absentmindedly dusting stray cat hair off his own plain black hoodie. "It's not my fault. I say I'm swearing off men, and suddenly my dream guy walks into my life. I'm dying."

"Who is it?" Katherine asks, shifting in her seat; she brings one knee to her chest and tucks the other foot underneath, folding herself like a pretzel in the uncomfortable wooden chairs of the library. "Do I know him? Do you know him? Or is it another barista?"

David rolls his eyes. "He's not a barista, I don't think," He says, then glances away for a fraction of a second; when he looks back, she already has a knowing look on her face. "And yeah. You know him."

Katherine raises a brow expectantly. "Who is it?"

And David regrets starting this conversation now, a little bit, because he doesn't want to admit it. He wanted to string her along a little. Wanted to tease it out, but she's looking at him like she'll strangle him at any moment if he doesn't tell her, and David knows his sister well enough to know that she only dates girls capable of violence. Katherine fits the bill.

Which is why, when he starts speaking again, he braces for impact before she can try anything. "You can't expect me not to fall in love with your hot friends, okay? It wasn't—"

"Oh my God!" She yells, a little too loud for the library's second floor. "You little slut! You like Jack?!"

"It's a pipe dream," He says immediately, throwing his hands out to his sides dramatically. "He's— okay, he's cute, alright? I can't help it!"

Katherine is grinning wildly at him now, textbook forgotten as she raps her hands against the wooden table. "You like Jack! I knew it! I knew you would like Jack!"

"Oh, please, no you did not," David says with a scoff.

"Uh, yes I did," She says, shooting him a look. "He's, like, exactly your type, Dee."

"I don't have a type."

"He's a goofy beefcake with brown eyes and muscles and curls, and he makes you laugh, and he listened to you talk about your mom's dog, and—"

And to her credit, she keeps listing off things, and to David's chagrin, she's not wrong.

When Katherine mentioned a party at her apartment, David was all for it. Despite his typical "I don't like people" front, David did enjoy the company of the six friends he could tolerate- Katherine, Charlie, Racer, Albert, Spot, and Sarah. Well, five friends, technically, since he's known Sarah since she was thirteen minutes old and he was, well, zero minutes old. Still. Six people.

And then Katherine said there would be a seventh.

A guy named Jack.

The lore there, she explained, is that all of them knew each other from community theater back in the day. Jack, Kath, Charlie, Race, Al and Spot- they've always ran in the same circles- outside of school, at least. Apparently, Kath's dad wasn't too happy that he was shelling out thousands of dollars for private school and she decided to make friends elsewhere, but there was really nothing he could do. Sarah was added to the group when she and Kath started dating in freshman year of college, and David was added not too long after that, but until now, Jack has just been... a story. A story about this funny guy with a megawatt smile and a heart of gold, who packed up and went to college in Santa Fe for college. He's been in town a few times since then, apparently, but David had never met the guy until Katherine's birthday party last weekend.

And he can't stop thinking about him.

Literally. David isn't an artist by any means, but thinking about this Jack Kelly guy- this 5'9 guy with with rich brown skin and bright eyes, with the laugh of a lion and a smile that made David want to throw up- has made David want to etch his "I go hiking in the mountains and bathe in the rivers" body in stone and write a symphony just to capture the sound of his voice singing Happy Birthday purposely off-key. It's maddening, and—

"Hellooo? Earth to David?"

David blinks, then groans and takes his glasses off, haphazardly dropping them in a clatter onto the wooden table as he rubs his eyes with the heels of his palm. "I'm fucked, Kath."

She cackles, loudly, like David's misery is the funniest shit she's ever seen. "Oh, you poor thing. Didn't he follow you on Instagram at the party?"

David responds with another guttural groan.

He can practically feels Katherine roll her eyes. "Okay, dumbass. Text him."

"He's your ex," David says, like this is a crucial detail, like she should hate the fact that David is into him on the basis of we used to date and it's fucked up that you're telling me how much you like my ex, like Katherine and Jack weren't lounging on top of each other all weekend, like they don't FaceTime every other day, like they're not as close as can be. "And he's in fucking New Mexico. I'm not getting attached."

"He's coming back next month, y'know," Katherine points out. She picks her pen back up, twirling it between her pointer and middle finger. "He's graduating a semester early. Next weekend, actually, and then he's moving back."

David finally removes his hands from his face. "You're shitting me."

"I'm not! I swear it." Katherine picks up her phone, and David watches as she swipes through her text messages before sliding the phone across the table. "See? He's moving back on the twenty-third. He's surprising Medda for Christmas."

"Oh, fuck," David frowns. "That's cute. He needs to stop being cute."

"He's moving in with Charlie, so, I mean," She shrugs, "you'll be seeing him a lot soon."

"You're making this worse."

"He has a job lined up already. School counselor for one of the middle schools."

"He likes kids?"

"Loves 'em."

"Fuck me," David sighs, rubbing his forehead as he slides the phone back to Katherine. "So, you're saying I have two weeks to get over him?"

"No, David," Katherine says, deadly serious despite the smirk on her face, "I'm saying you have two weeks until your future husband is permanently in your vicinity."

"He doesn't like me like that," David says, crossing his arms. "You're being a bad friend. You're completely feeding my delusions."

Katherine purses her lips and grabs her phone again, silent. David gulps as he leans forward, trying to watch her screen through her glasses; he can tell she's scrolling through her photos, but after a few moments, she stops. When she slides the phone back, David sees an image on the screen.

An image of a video from her birthday. Paused with David and Jack on screen. David's eyes are wide, and his mouth is open and his lips are quirked, and his eyebrows are raised and his hands are splayed in front of him, and he's obviously mid-sentence about something important (or not important; he doesn't remember much after his fourth drink, but remembers talking about Pokémon and Sabrina Carpenter and the fall of the Catholic church, so the possibilities are truly endless).

Despite the animated, ugly, passionate look on David's face, though, what draws his attention is Jack.

Jack, sitting sideways on the couch with his elbow on the back and his cheek resting against his palm. Jack, his other arm draped, barely holding his bottle of beer. Jack, his gaze soft, staring at David like he's completely enraptured in whatever the fuck he's saying.

David takes in a deep breath, slides the phone back to Katherine, and says, "I want him."

She just grins and responds, "You got two weeks, tiger. This is so happening."

[dandylovesturtles]

I meant to do this earlier and then I didn't |'D but quick little ficlet for @trilobitepunch 's DTIYS!

I've tried to read all the stuff about fangiverse but I may have some lore wrong... but I hope you enjoy this anyway, Aya!

-----

Raph has always kept an eye on his little brothers, and that hasn't changed. Two of them have some added... difficulties now, but that's all. They're still his little brothers, and Raph will watch out for them, same as usual. Everything is totally normal.

Thinking that way helps him stay calm, anyway.

Like now, wandering through a marketplace in the Hidden City, eyes on Donnie as he pokes at the gourds at a stand with a frown. They have a whole shopping list from Draxum, for some medicines he wants to try to make that he thinks will help not just Donnie and Leo but all of them. Raph had almost insisted that he and Mikey could do it on their own, but Leo starts going stir-crazy if he's kept locked in the lair too long and Donnie can lock himself in so long he needs the vitamin D.

Besides, Raph doesn't want to feel like he's keeping them prisoner. It's not their fault.

But against all odds, the day has turned out surprisingly well! They had lunch at Run of the Mill, and ate all their favorites. Leo and Mikey spent their remaining New Year's money on candy from a shop that temporarily turns keratin weird colors; it's supposed to affect fingernails, but right now Mikey is sporting a bright pink shell as he trails after Donnie (Raph has to admit, he wants to try it later). For his part, he has an almost-eaten cup of froyo, which he'd piled high with some pretty weird toppings (the Hidden City has weird green mushrooms that taste like cotton candy!). And they've made it through over half the shopping list without incident! Maybe everything will go smoothly after all.

And just as Raph thinks that, he hears a familiar snarl, and everything falls apart.

His mistake, he realizes even as he turns to look, was focusing so much on Donnie that he forgot to keep an eye trained on Leo.

Donnie's easy to trigger, and he sinks deep, devoid of everything but the urge to attack, to fight. Leo can usually keep one finger in reality, just enough to be the bridge between Donnie and the rest of them. Donnie is unpredictable in a crowd, but Leo loves being out around people. That's why Raph had kept his eyes trained on purple.

But the thing is, when Leo goes down, he goes down hard. And there's nothing to stop Donnie from being swept right along with him.

Raph swivels on his feet, froyo cup tossed aside as he scans the crowd. He finds Leo fast, poised like a snake ready to strike, snarling and hissing, pupils flared and wild. His fangs are out and they're bared, staring down a yokai almost three times his size - Raph doesn't know what happened in the lead-up, but he has a feeling that Leo's freakout is deserved.

It doesn't change the fact that they can't stay here now. If Leo hurts someone in this state, he'll beat himself up about it for weeks - and it's only a matter of time until the cops show up and arrest all of them.

"DONNIE!"

Raph isn't at all surprised by Mikey's shout, or the sudden blur of purple that shoots past him. Donnie is at Leo's side in an instant, snarling just as loudly, the two of them circling back to back in challenge to the increasingly panicked crowd.

It's time to go!

"Raph!" yells Mikey, but Raph doesn't spare him a glance. He trusts Mikey to keep up.

"Hitch a ride, Mike," is all he says, before he's clearing the space between himself and his snarling brothers in two big steps. A second later, a familiar weight lands on his shell; one problem taken care of.

Donnie is just about to launch himself at a yokai brandishing a short sword when Raph swoops in, grabbing his little brother by the battle shell and tucking him under his arm. Donnie howls in frustration, but Raph has experience on his side; he pins Donnie to his side and makes sure his teeth can't get anywhere near him.

"No biting, Dee!" he calls over the noise of the crowd, and gets a frustrated chatter in return.

"I can't reach Leo!" Mikey reports from his shoulder. Raph swivels around to look at his remaining sibling, currently advancing on the big yokai once again. Said yokai has his hands balled into fists in front of him, but he looks more than a little concerned as Leo lurches toward him with predatory steps.

Maybe he could just let him get a little closer...

No, Raph should definitely stop this.

With another big step, Raph comes level with Leo and scoops him under his other arm, earning a startled yelp that would be hilarious under other circumstances. Both feral turtles struggle under his arms, fangs bared and hands strong, but Raph has them in his grip.

A police siren echoes over the din of the crowd.

"Time to go!" Mikey shouts, thumping Raph's shell.

"Don't gotta tell me twice!" he yells back. He's already muscling his way through the crowd, making a beeline for an alleyway off the market. They need to get off the main streets, then book it for the nearest portal topside.

The whole trip, the bundles under his arms hiss and snarl and claw at him, completely ungrateful for how he just saved their butts. He ought to drop them and leave them here.

But he won't. They're still his little brothers, after all.

[changingplumbob]

First Impressions - Berenice

How do you feel so far?

There's… so many… people *looks around anxiously*

Dee

Oh, I mislike people who have eyebrows lighter than their skin colour. Like you need a second look to make sure they have any at all? And they're important to keep sweat, moisture and debris out of your eyes - and to communicate with people, so it makes me think that you're trying to hide something? Well at least she has an open face, I guess! Also what would they be called if she and Deanna eventually end up together - DeeDee? [makes a face] Better than D-Squared, I suppose - that's not at all mathematically accurate…

Isla

Is this one of Layla de la Rosa's children? Sorry, I'm not like trying to be rude or anything - it just looks a lot like her. I think that would be a bit of a disadvantage for the other competitors with her mother being a romance writer and all. And with Ms de la Rosa it's clearly not a case of 'those who can't, teach' - I mean, have we seen her new husband??? Sorry, that must be rude too *ponders*

Isabella

I uh, I don't know. It's not the same person but she looks like the type of girl who would maybe invite everyone but you to their slumber party and like so obviously made sure that you knew about it - and also the type of girl who somehow gets zipzapped afterwa… uh freak static shocks, amirite? Anyway so I'm either going to dislike her because of her unfortunate association in my brain orrrr I'll overcompensate for my bias by being extra nice to her and giving her faaarrrr too much leniency aaaand therefore ending up with a perception that is totally biased anyway??? So yeah, don't come to me for an accurate take on Isabella, is what I'm trying to say - heh..

Kaye

Pointy ears! *huge grin* Ooh I wonder if this means - I 'mean', pointy ears are just ears, they don't have to mean anything - they're part of what we take meaning from. Anyway I'm not trying to be 'mean' with these buuuut it's always like 'oh give us your honest opinion Berenice - uh, but not like that.' Either people say that they want you to be honest but then you're just supposed to tell them what they want to hear - why not ask for that in the first place? Orrr they say 'I'm just being honest' when noooo - you just want to be hurtful. It's not a Simonoply 'Get Out of Jail' free card for your own personal responsibility - buh bye, forbidden word…

Nyami

Oooh, what a nautical name! I wonder if she's - well, it's important for everyone to stay hydrated, right? [nervous laughter] She seems different at least. I wonder how well she knows the local flora from Selvadorada - they would have a lot of great uses for ingredients! And actually, a tropical climate would be great for year-round…. tomatoes, it would be great for year round tomatoes. They're my favourite vegetable-which-is-also-a-fruit!

Berenice created and written by @ethicaltreatmentofcowplants

[brandwhorestarscream]

Hear me out ok just hear me out-

Shattered glass TF1, where after discovering Sentinel's betrayal (does he still betray them?? Idk), Orion is the one to kill him, and that's what earns him the Matrix. Newly christened Optimus Prime waging war with the quintessons with D-16 at his side, and Dee watches him fall further and further into the role of a bloodsoaked, apathetic commander. Even when the quintessons have been driven off the planet, the Prime pursues, and they completely exterminate the entire quintesson homeworld. Optimus declares that all organic life is bad, they can't risk another quintesson, and thus begins his quest to see all organic life purged and making the universe a place only for mechanical life forms. D-16 becomes Megatron in opposition to the planned genocides. He and his allies are declared traitors against the Matrix

Dee is the one that watches his friend sink into darkness, and when he tries to leave Optimus tries to kill him 😌

He loves Orion so much, but hearing him say he's going on a crusade to kill innocent creatures that have done nothing to them... it scares him. Badly. Privately tries to talk him out of it, and when he won't give in, Dee can't look at him the same anymore. He's been in denial this whole time--Orion is a Prime, a real Prime, he can't be wrong. He's snappy and perhaps a bit bossy these days, but it's just because he's stressed from fighting the quintessons. Plenty of mecha laugh on the battlefield, it's a natural reflex response to adrenaline. It's... it's fine. It's all fine. He loves Orion. Orion is good. Orion isn't... he's not...

And it just builds and builds and builds til he can't deny it anymore

The change is gradual but he's definitely spiraling further and further into what a shattered glass Prime is: a rampaging storm of destruction that'll tear down anything in his way that'll prevent Cybertron's glory from spreading. His purpose is to conquer the universe and let Primus's influence sink into and consume every world they come across

The decepticon faction is formed in opposition to that, and in the fallout they're declared traitors againt the Matrix, against their Prime, and against Cybertron Himself. This is Primus's will, after all. They think they can stand in the way? The resulting conflict is bloody and gruesome, and when Megatron rises in direct defiance to Optronix Prime... well. Needless to say, it breaks both their sparks 🤭

[energ00n]

Have this random theory going around in my head because of that one Twitter post about miner's ranking,I think Orion is just younger than others because if Dee already pretty high ranked and even if Orion is a troublemaker,that one interaction low-key kinda make me think "Dang he can't be that good if he's around Orion's age,wait what if Dee is older-"

And going with Orion's behavior I think he's really young,and maybe that's why the fact that Dee is so upset don't resonate well with Orion,because Dee had been mining longer than him and climbing up the ranks while Orion is just,not living long enough to feel as upset

Sorry for rambling its just that I think Dee and Elita is around same age that's why they're more mature while Orion is really just that one kid,can't really say he don't learn anything but he's not as experienced as others-

Really man, Orion is a troublemaker but he can mine as well as others from what I remember from watching the movie. It's not that he's stupid he's just younger and inexperienced

Idk what else to say but yeah,Orion just feels younger to me after all that miner ranking thing swarming my Twitter

I'm not against it, tho I don't particularly agree or see it the same way

Being better at one thing doesn't indicate your age, see academic environment and how kids are in the same class. Orion acting a certain way doesn't indicate his age either, that's his individualism, his personality and belief; how clearly he didn't take mining seriously because he believed it undermined them.

I don't think the badge indicates how "better" at it they are, necessarily, just how much more diligent. I doubt they gave a damn what method the miners used as long as the quotas are hit